


welcome home.

by letmebefranwithyou



Series: come in, take off your shoes; make yourself at home. [1]
Category: The Host - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/F, F/M, Jared is an awful man and we should all say it, Mel and Wanda merge into one, Multi, also a tag that should exist in this fandom, and again now that wanda's new body showed up, and that I can add now that Sunny's showed up, fuck Kyle I am not as forgiving as Meyer, is that a tag in this fandom? Please let it be a tag, pedophilic descriptions of characters are made non-pedophilic, since fixing That would fudge plot and narrative flow too much :/, this story is less straight than canon but unfortunately not much more horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 113,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22282576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmebefranwithyou/pseuds/letmebefranwithyou
Summary: It’s such a tidy fix, isn’t it? To put a wall between them, a door, then lock it shut. To separate the two neatly, Melanie Stryder and Wanderer, to cut in two what you yourself have jumbled together into one thing. Brains are such funny things. So is that which we call “conscience” without knowing what it is.
Relationships: Ian O'Shea/Melanie Stryder, Ian O'Shea/Wanderer, Jared Howe/Melanie Stryder, Melanie Stryder & Wanderer, Melanie Stryder/Wanderer
Series: come in, take off your shoes; make yourself at home. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844680
Comments: 191
Kudos: 101





	1. chapter 29: BETRAYED

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is something I've been wanting to do for years and finally did! I'm posting literally as I type, so take this with a grain of salt. Unbeta'ed and unedited. I wanted to explore how The Host would have gone if Stephanie Meyer hadn't neatly separated Mel and Wanda and I had gotten to see one of my very favorite sci-fi tropes: when two beings merge into one, and all the juicy bits we get to see as it happens.  
> I hope you guys like it!

Jared was calling to us. It didn’t occur to us to run, to back away; maybe it would have, once, but no one was holding us back now, not even me, not even fear. The force of my longing propelled us forward instead, something too strong for us to stop, compounded by Melanie’s desperate eagerness. Jared’s voice was cold and angry, but he was calling to us.

We stepped around the corner and into the blue light, then hesitated.

It was different, seeing it on his face: the cold and the anger. Mel’s love for him burst, our hands reaching forward to him, but I was wounded and winced back—he didn’t love me.

He was calling to us, but he loved her, and even though she was here in the back of me she wasn’t _me_ , and we felt vertigo. We set a hand on the wall beside us. We were pulled in so many directions: love, of course (that he called for us (that he was giving us a chance)); relief (that he was sitting, that he was standing down and tamping down on his hate (that he could believe that we were who we said we were) and that he wouldn’t hurt us); an ache (that he didn’t love me; that he loved her face; (that I was here and he maybe would _see_ —) but it wasn’t _me_ but did it matter when we were—)

“Wanda?” Ian asked.

Our eyes snapped up to him. He stood just a few feet ahead of us, poised on the balls of his feet. He was ready, we realized, for whatever hostile movement Jared might make towards us. We smiled at him, small and exhausted, curling our fingers against the rough cave walls while rage rose in our chest like molasses, slow but inescapable, how could he _dare_ , as if he _mattered,_ to come _between us—_

 _Stand down,_ I said to Melanie. _We’re already making a show as it is._

Jared’s eyes narrowed. He was sitting on one of the mats Jamie and we had left here. He looked as weary as Ian, though his eyes, too, were more alert than the rest of his exhausted posture.

"At ease," Jared said to Ian. "I just want to talk to it. I promised the kid, and I'll stand by that promise."

"Where's Kyle?" Ian demanded.

"Snoring. Your cave might shake apart from the vibrations."

Ian didn't move.

"I'm not lying, Ian,” Jared continued. “And I'm not going to kill it. Jeb is right. No matter how messed up this stupid situation is, Jamie has as much say as I do, and he's been totally suckered, so I doubt he'll be giving me the go-ahead anytime soon."

"No one's been suckered," Ian growled.

I didn’t care about the _suckered_ , but I heard the _it_ and felt small. The tips of our lips tugged down, and I made a frown out of the scowl Mel wanted to let out.

 _Stubborn moron_ , she muttered.

Jared waved his hand. "It's not in any danger from me, is my point." For the first time he looked at us, evaluating the way we—did everything, honestly. It wasn’t too hard to keep things steady between me and Melanie most times, but nothing was easy with this man. We were frowning, but when he looked at us, we still turned to him like a flower to the sun. "I won't hurt you again," he said.

We took a step forward.

"You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to, Wanda," Ian said quickly. "This isn't a duty or a chore to be done. It's not mandatory. You have a choice."

Jared's eyebrows pulled low over his eyes—Ian's words confused him.

“Of course it’s not _mandatory_ ,” we said, the scowl slipping out for a second. Ian blinked at us, surprised, and Jared lifted an eyebrow. I winced, shoulders drawings in. “It’s—it’s fine,” I said, doing the mental equivalent of shoving an elbow at Mel’s ribs. She did the mental equivalent of slapping the back of my head, and I winced again. “I’ll talk to him.”

Jared turned his hand palm up and curled his fingers twice, encouraging us forward.

We couldn’t not go; that would be like trying to reverse gravity, to ask the world to start spinning the other way around. Melanie loved him so much it _hurt_ , it hurt me, it hurt us both. I was helpless against her, against him, against myself. I wanted to go, too. Maybe this time he wouldn’t hurt me.

 _He hurts me too_ , Melanie said. _He doesn’t know it, but once he knows, you’ll see, he’ll hate himself, he’ll never raise his hand again._

 _You know that doesn’t make it better,_ I said. _You know how it doesn’t make it better._

 _I know_ , Mel said. She tried to sound sympathetic but only barely manage to tamp down on her vindication. Jealous woman.

We walked slowly but surely, my wounded heart slowing down Mel’s confident steps. We stopped a yard away from him, stopped Mel from setting herself down at his feet, by his side, anywhere too near. Ian shadowed us, keeping close to our side. He didn’t understand; he didn’t know why we were acting so erratic.

"I'd like to talk to it alone, if you don't mind," Jared said to him.

Ian planted himself. "I do mind."

"No, Ian, it's okay. Go get some sleep." We nudged his arm.

Ian scrutinized our face, his expression dubious. "This isn't some death wish? Sparing the kid?" he demanded.

"No. Jared wouldn't lie to Jamie about this."

Jared scowled when his name was said, the sound of it full of confidence.

"Please, Ian," I pleaded. "I want to talk to him."

Ian looked at me for a long minute, then turned to scowl at Jared. He barked out each sentence like an order.

"Her name is Wanda, not it. You will not touch her. Any mark you leave on her, I will double on your worthless hide." Then turned abruptly and stalked into the darkness.

We winced at the threat while our hands curled in fists. We knew, suddenly, nauseatingly, that whatever he did to Jared we would double on _his_ worthless—

 _Mel_ , I whispered.

 _He threatened Jared_ , Mel said, full of poison.

It was silent for a moment as we all watched the empty space where Ian had disappeared. I uncurled our hands, shoulders drawing in, trying not to think of what Mel had promised, violence by our hands. We looked at Jared's face first, while he still stared after Ian. When he turned to meet our gaze, we flinched minutely, but Mel kept our eyes on him.

"Wow. He's not kidding, is he?" Jared said.

We didn’t answer. Mel gave a small shrug.

"Why don't you have a seat?" he asked, patting the mat beside him.

We froze.

I wanted—she wanted—we _did_ , so badly our legs shook, to sit beside him so close to him, to smell his scent and fell the warmth of his body beside us, Christ suddenly the whole world felt so cold. But we didn’t want it, too, a part of me that was small and sad and heartbroken. We didn’t want to sit beside him, to feel Mel’s love like a flower blooming in our chest, to look at him and know that whatever kindness he had was an answer to that. Something in me would break, I thought, to have him hating me so clearly, so near.

His love for her would only make it worse, brighten it with contrast, make him hate me even more.

He watched, his head tilted to the side.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

We breathed in, out, then compromised by sitting on the other end of the mat, closer to the hole’s edge.

"I'm sorry about last night—about your face,” he said when he realized nothing else was coming. “I shouldn't have done that."

“You _shouldn’t_ ,” Mel said, furrowing our brows.

 _Mel_ , I hissed.

Jared’s eyes narrowed.

“Sorry,” I said, then winced, because that wasn’t going to make anything better. “It's—it’s fine.”

He was quiet. We looked up at him. He was staring at us with a searching look, and we could almost see the cogs turning inside his brain, the puzzle pieces slotting together. He had figured out, of course, that something was not quite right, even though he was too much of a pig-headed mule to see the truth.

 _So now he’s a pig_ and _a mule?_ I asked, amused despite myself.

 _And a jackass too,_ Mel added primly.

We stared down at our hands, knotted together in a double fist on our lap, and tried not to smile.

There was the whisper of clothing. Our gaze snapped up—he was moving. He scooted down the mat until he sat right beside us—the way Melanie had hoped for. Too close—it was hard to think straight, hard to breathe right, our breath stuttering in our chest—but we couldn't bring ourselves to scoot away.

Irritation bloomed like a bruise on our chest.

 _What?_ I asked, startled.

 _I don’t like him next to you_ , Mel said, too honest. She couldn’t lie to me, not really, and had gotten in the habit of not mincing her words. _It doesn’t feel right. I don’t like the way you want him there._

If we had had something to stare at, I would have. I was left staring at somewhere past Jared’s left ear.

For the first time since we had abandoned civilization together, since our death— _near death_ —in the desert, since whatever barriers we had between them eroded like rock into sand, I felt waves of hostility from her. It made me dizzy, the punch of hating myself and hating myself for it, a bit, but the vindication—the jealousy—

 _This isn’t fair_ , I wailed.

"I just have one question," Jared said, interrupting Mel’s answer.

We met his gaze and then shied away—recoiling both from his hard eyes and from Melanie's resentment.

"You can probably guess what it is. Jeb and Jamie spent all night jabbering at me..."

We waited for the question, staring across the dark hall at the rice bag—last night's pillow. In our peripheral vision, we saw his hand come up, and I cringed into the wall.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said again, impatient, and cupped our chin in his rough hand, pulling our face around so we had to look at him.

Our heart stuttered when he touched us, and there was suddenly too much moisture in our eyes. I blinked, trying to clear them, and Mel narrowed them. His touch—it was welcome, it was heaven, but it really wasn’t. I didn’t want it there. She didn’t want it there. We both wanted it so bad.

"Wanda." He said my name slowly—unwillingly, we could tell, though his voice was even and toneless. "Is Melanie still alive—still part of you? Tell me the truth."

“Jared,” Melanie said, our tears slipping down our face. We gripped at his wrist, she wanted to kiss his skin. “Jared, you fucking _moron_ —”

We clamped our mouth shut. _No,_ I wailed—but the damage was done. It was physically painful trying to keep her back, to keep us from leaning towards him. _Stop it! Can't you see?_

It was so obvious in the set of his lips, the tight lines under his eyes. It didn't matter what any of us could have said—it didn’t matter what we had done.

_He doesn’t want the truth, he’s just looking for evidence, some way to prove us a liar, a Seeker, to Jeb and Jamie so that he’ll be allowed to kill me._

His eyes were narrowed. He was still like a stone, and rigid too under our touch. Mel didn’t want to answer, she didn’t want to believe, and it was unbearable—our brain was trying to keep itself from thinking, in all the parts where Mel was me and I was Mel; it was a struggle to keep silent.

 _Please_ , I sobbed. _Please, Mel._

Jared watched the sweat bead on our forehead, the strange shiver that shook down our spine. He held onto our chin, refusing to let us hide our face.

His hold on us was strong, even though we weren’t struggling. He looked—gutted. Wretched. He didn’t want to believe, just like Mel, like the two of them were reaching towards each other, connecting in the vacuum between their bodies in their sheer pig-headedness, both of them earning to be together. If only I weren’t there.

I sobbed.

My sheer broken-heartedness felt like a slap to the face, and Mel let go all at once—our hand felt slapped away from his wrist, our eyes widening for all that my sobbing broke loose, shock and pain and sickly green jealously making our vision spin; she hated that I loved him but I did and it was her fault; she had never felt something like this, because her emotions had always been tinged with fear, with agony, with betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped, and our tears were reeled in. We pressed our hands to our face, covering it. We felt _frantic._ Damage control. Christ, this situation had gotten way out of hand. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and we didn’t know who had said it, and didn’t rightly care.

“The—I’m sorry,” Mel repeated, trying to think of anything that could salvage this, coming up empty-handed.

“ _What just happened_ ,” he asked, his voice more a snarl than not.

“I’m sorry,” we said, miserable.

And quiet was installed.

He waited, and waited, and nothing would come. Nothing did come. We were exhausted and wounded and winded. We wanted Jamie and some bread and a fucking nap. We wanted him, but not even Melanie's sheer strenght could hold us up right now. She didn't want to be here anymore, not now that we had seen just how much of a shitshow the whole thing was promising to be.

At last, he sighed, frustrated.

Maybe he would leave. We wanted him to leave. We stared at our hands again, waiting for that. Our heartbeat marked the passing minutes. He didn't move. We didn't move. He seemed carved out of stone beside us. It fit him, this stonelike stillness. It fit his new, hard expression, the flint in his eyes.

Melanie pondered this Jared, comparing him with the man he used to be. She remembered an unremarkable day on the run...

_"Argh!" Jared and Jamie groan together._

_Jared lounges on the leather sofa and Jamie sprawls on the carpet in front of him. They're watching a basketball game on the big-screen TV. The para-sites who live in this house are at work, and we've already filled the jeep with all it can hold. We have hours to rest before we need to disappear again._

_On the TV, two players are disagreeing politely on the sideline. The cameraman is close; we can hear what they're saying._

_"I believe I was the last one to touch it-it's your ball."_

_"I'm not sure about that. I wouldn't want to take any unfair advantage. We'd better have the refs review the tape."_

_The players shake hands, pat each other's shoulders._

_"This is ridiculous," Jared grumbles._

_"I can't stand it," Jamie agrees, mirroring Jared's tone perfectly; he sounds more like Jared every day-one of the many forms his hero worship has taken. "Is there anything else on?"_

_Jared flips through a few channels until he finds a track and field meet. The parasites are holding the Olympics in Haiti right now. From what we can see, the aliens are all hugely excited about it. Lots of them have Olympic flags outside their houses. It's not the same, though. Everyone who participates gets a medal now. Pathetic._

_But they can't really screw up the hundred-meter dash. Individual parasite sports are much more entertaining than when they try to compete against each other directly. They perform better in separate lanes._

_"Mel, come relax," Jared calls._

_I stand by the back door out of habit, not because I'm tensed to run. Not because I'm frightened. Empty habit, nothing more._

_I go to Jared. He pulls me onto his lap and tucks my head under his chin._

_"Comfortable?" he asks._

_"Yes," I say, because I really, truly am entirely comfortable. Here, in an alien's house._

_Dad used to say lots of funny things-like he was speaking his own language sometimes. Twenty-three skidoo, salad days, nosy parker, bandbox fresh, the catbird seat, chocolate teapot, and something about Grandma sucking eggs. One of his favorites was safe as houses._

_Teaching me to ride a bike, my mother worrying in the doorway: "Calm down, Linda, this street is safe as houses." Convincing Jamie to sleep without his nightlight: "It's safe as houses in here, son, not a monster for miles."_

_Then overnight the world turned into a hideous nightmare, and the phrase became a black joke to Jamie and me. Houses were the most dangerous places we knew._

_Hiding in a patch of scrubby pines, watching a car pull out from the garage of a secluded home, deciding whether to make a food run, whether it was too dicey. "Do you think the parasites'll be gone for long?" "No way-that place is safe as houses. Let's get out of here."_

_And now I can sit here and watch TV like it is five years ago and Mom and Dad are in the other room and I've never spent a night hiding in a drainpipe with Jamie and a bunch of rats while body snatchers with spotlights search for the thieves who made off with a bag of dried beans and a bowl of cold spaghetti._

_I know that if Jamie and I survived alone for twenty years we would never find this feeling on our own. The feeling of safety. More than safety, even-happiness. Safe and happy, two things I thought I'd never feel again._

_Jared makes us feel that way without trying, just by being Jared._

_I breathe in the scent of his skin and feel the warmth of his body under mine._

_Jared makes everything safe, everything happy. Even houses._

_I don’t feel safe anymore_ , Melanie said, voice small. The warmth where his arm was just half an inch from ours was enticing, torturous, wonderful—but not safe.

 _I’m sorry,_ I said, just as small. _I think that’s me. I didn’t mean to._

Loving Jared made me feel less safe than anything else we could think of.

Would we have loved Jared if he'd always been who he was now, rather than the smiling Jared in our memories, the one who had come to Melanie with his hands full of hope and miracles? Would she have followed him if he'd always been so hard and cynical? If the loss of his laughing father and wild big brothers had iced him over the way nothing but Melanie's loss had?

 _Of course._ Mel was certain. _I would love Jared in any form. Even like this, he belongs with me._

He didn’t belong with me, so maybe that wouldn’t be true for me—but then, half of my love was because of the sheer strength of her feelings, of how close she was to me. I was too much Melanie not to love him, either way.

Without any cue, suddenly Jared was talking, speaking as if we were in the middle of a conversation.

"And so, because of you, Jeb and Jamie are convinced that it's possible to continue some kind of awareness after... being caught. They're both sure Mel's still kicking in there. I’m not convinced by that little show. I _know_ you keep memories—you’d know just what to mimic."

He rapped his fist lightly against our head. We flinched away from him, and he folded his arms.

"Jamie thinks she's talking to him." He rolled his eyes. "Not really fair to play the kid like that—but that's assuming a sense of ethics that clearly does not apply. Like we just fucking saw."

We wrapped our arms around us.

"Jeb does have a point, though—that's what's killing me! What are you after? The Seekers' search wasn't well directed or even... suspicious. They only seemed to be looking for you—not for us. So maybe they didn't know what you were up to. Maybe you're freelancing? Some kind of undercover thing. Or..."

It was easier to ignore him when he was speculating so foolishly. We didn’t want to stay in this conversation anymore. We focused on our knees. They were dirty, as usual, purple and black.

"Maybe they're right—about the killing you part, anyway."

Unexpectedly, his fingers brushed lightly once across the goose bumps his words had raised on our arm. His voice was softer when he spoke again. "Nobody's going to hurt you now. As long as you aren't causing any trouble..." He shrugged. "I can sort of see their point, and maybe, in a sick way, it would be wrong, like they say. Maybe there is no justifiable reason to... Except that Jamie..."

Our head flipped up—his eyes were sharp, scrutinizing our reaction. We would have cared about showing too much interested before, but now that Melanie had pretty thoroughly thrown that door open…

"It scares me how attached he's getting," Jared muttered. "Shouldn't have left him behind. I never imagined... And I don't know what to do about it now. He thinks Mel's alive in there. What will it do to him when...?"

 _When_ , I thought.

No matter what promises he'd made, he didn't see me lasting in the long term.

 _Us_ , Melanie corrected, angry. _You keep forgetting about me._

 _You keep forgetting they’ll do anything they can to keep you_ , I said, tired.

"I'm surprised you got to Jeb," he reflected, changing the subject. "He's a canny old guy. He sees through deceptions so easily. Till now."

He thought about that for a minute.

"Not much for conversation, are you?"

There was another long silence.

His words came in a sudden gush. "The part that keeps bugging me is what if they're right? How the hell would I know? I hate the way their logic makes sense to me. There's got to be another explanation. I mean. What if—no. But…"

We looked down at the floor, for all that we wanted to rest our head on his shoulder. Just for a second. We wanted it so much.

Jared moved, shifting away from the wall so that his body was turned toward us. We watched the movement from the corner of our eye.

"Why are you here?" he whispered.

We peeked up at his face. It was gentle, kind, almost the way Melanie remembered it, and so beloved. Our lips trembled. Keeping our arms locked took all my strength. We wanted to touch his face. I wanted it. Melanie did not like this.

 _If you won't let me talk, then at least keep your hands to yourself_ , she hissed.

 _It’s not my fault, you saw what happened_ , I said, but at the same time: _I'm trying. I'm sorry. I was sorry._ This was hurting her. We were both hurting, different hurts. It was hard to know who had it worse at the moment. The answer was, of course, _both._

Jared watched curiously while our eyes filled again.

"Why?" he asked softly. "You know, Jeb has this crazy idea that you're here for me and Jamie. Isn't that nuts?"

Our mouth half-opened; we quickly bit down on our lip.

Jared leaned forward slowly and took our face between both his hands. Our eyes closed. Mel leaned against his touch, breathing out. She wanted to tell him. How hateful, that telling him how much she loved him would be only ammunition to him.

"Won't you tell me?"

We shook our head once, fast. Was it me saying won't or Melanie saying can't? Both, of course, again; that was how it was with us.

His hands tightened under our jaw. I opened our eyes, and his face was inches away from ours. Our heart fluttered, our stomach dropped—we tried to breathe, but our lungs did not obey.

 _Oh, no_ , Mel said, furious.

We recognized the intention in his eyes; we knew how he would move, exactly how his lips would feel. And yet it was so new to me, a first more shocking than any other, as his mouth pressed against ours.

He meant to leave it as a simple touch of lips, to be soft, but things changed when our skin met. His mouth was abruptly hard and rough, his hands trapped our face to his while his lips moved our in urgent, unfamiliar patterns. It was so different from remembering, so much stronger. Our head swam incoherently; Melanie’s rage split in two, so vast we felt dizzy with it.

We reared back and socked him in the face.

It knocked his face away from us with a blunt, low sound. Flesh against flesh, hard and angry. The force of it was not enough to move him far, but he scrambled away from us the instant our lips were no longer connected, gaping with horrorstruck eyes at my horrorstruck expression.

We stared down at the still-clenched fist, as repulsed as if I'd found a scorpion growing on the end of my arm. A gasp of revulsion choked its way out of our throat. I grabbed the right wrist with our left hand, desperate to keep Melanie from using our body for violence again.

“Are you out of your _goddamn mind?_ ” Melanie shouted. “Are you fucking serious right now? Jared? You fucking asshole? We tried to tell you and you looked at us like we had just handed you a live grenade, now you go and fucking _do this?_ ”

Jared was staring at us with the blank face of someone who had absolutely no idea how to deal with anything. In that second, his expression was entirely defenseless. His thoughts were easy to read as they moved across his unlocked face.

This was not what he had expected. And he'd had expectations; that was plain to see. This had been a test. A test he'd thought he was prepared to evaluate. A test with results he'd anticipated with confidence. But he'd been surprised; of course he had. Nothing could have prepared him to the full force of us finally straightening her spine and snarling back.

We couldn’t untangle what we were feeling. Shock, betrayal, pain, jealousy—twice over, doubling over itself, fury, heartbreak. We couldn’t tell who was who, or what was what.

He opened his mouth. No sound left it.

“You can’t do this,” we said. “You fucking can’t. We’re going to fall apart, Jared; We’re going to come _fucking_ undone. It’s going to be ugly, and it’s going to be your fault, and it’ll be for the stupidest reason in the world. So could you please, please, leave us be for a second, just for a moment?” we asked, tears flowing down our face. “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep. I’m so sorry.”

When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, broken and strangely childlike.

"Mel?"


	2. chapter 30: ABBREVIATED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, or 30 depending on how you're counting! Another few scenes I'd really wanted to see with Mel more present, with even more to come. [eyes emoji]

“Mel?" he asked again, the hope he didn't want to feel coloring his tone. His eyes roamed our face as if he could pull the truth from the lines around our eyes. "You know that was for you, Mel,” he added, half desperate, when we gave him no answer. “You know that. Not for h—it. You know I wasn't kissing it."

“What were you _doing_ , then?” Mel demanded, tear-stained and with our hands in fists. “Kissing us like we’re— _lab rats_ , like it’s an _experiment_ , doing this to us—”

“ _Us?_ ” Jared asked, cold and horror seeping into his voice.

“ _Who else is here?!_ ” we yelled, and new tears flowed down our face.

“Mel, is it the—oh, _no_ ,” Jared said, scrambling back and up, eyes filled with horror. “Is this the parasite, did it—or—does it honestly think you’re there, when your memories affect it—”

Our next sob was louder, and we suddenly _could not_ deal with this anymore. Fury flared up weakly, holding us up, and it let us spew the one thing Mel knew would make him run.

“Leave us _be_ ,” we ordered, voice breaking on the word, “Jared, I— _Melanie_ , or whatever’s _left of Melanie_ , if that’s what you’re believing right now— _we do not want you here._ ”

The words hit him like a bullet. It was the worst thing in the world to see him like this, though a wave of vindication also rose: he was the one heartbroken, now. Even with everything, he had never thought that anything of Melanie—not her face, her voice, her memories, whatever scrap of her could ever be left after she was taken—could ever really think that. They belonged together, after all; in death or anything else.

He breathed in harshly.

“If you're in there, Mel..." He paused, took a step forward and backed away when we flinched.

We hated the "if.”

"I love you," Jared said. "Even if you're not there, if you can't hear me. I love you."

We watched as he waited for an answer, then turned around and left when nothing came. What could we have said? That we loved him too? How it would hurt us to know that he didn’t believe it—or worse, that he hated us for it.

_That he hates_ me _for it_ , I thought.

We sat down abruptly, not even noticing that we had sat on top of the mat and not the floor.

_He doesn’t believe us_ , Mel thought. _Or he does, but in no way that matters. I can’t fucking believe he did that!_

_He kissed us,_ I said, dazed. I lifted our hand to our eyes, wanting to cover them. Mel took them to our lips.

_He doesn’t think you’re me and he kissed us anyway,_ she said, furious, and I suddenly saw that her fury was masking a lot of pain—it wasn’t only coming from me, the hurt. Betrayal, I realized: she had never thought the love of her life would kiss another woman, especially not right in front of her.

I braced myself for anger directed at me. _He was trying to see if you were there,_ I tried. _He was trying to draw you out._

_No. He figured out that we’re here for him and Jamie, he figured out that we_ love him _, he wanted to see if that was true,_ Mel countered.

_Aren’t you angry at me?_ I asked, feeling small.

We curled our legs close to our chest, crossing our arms and dropping our head to it.

_Why would I—oh_.

Because I was the one who he had meant to kiss. Because her soulmate had meant to make out with me, since he didn’t believe she was here too. But that couldn’t—that wasn’t—how could it be? Mel couldn’t hate me, because that would be an ouroboros of idiocy; I was somewhat her, after all, and he had been kissing her too.

_Wanda_ , Mel said, quiet and afraid, _what exactly is happening to us?_

It was the first time either of us had brought it up.

_I don’t know_ , I whispered. Whatever wall there had been between us had been thoroughly knocked down—what did that make of us? What separated us, now, Mel and Wanda, what kept us ourselves instead of each other? We looked down at our hands. I closed them in fists. Mel opened them.

It didn’t feel like two separate people making two separate motions. We closed them in fists. We opened them.

_I’m sorry_ , I said. _I wish—_

_I’m more me than I thought I could keep_ , Mel told me, quiet like a secret. _I’m more myself than I thought I would ever get back, even if whoever I am now is half you._

We didn’t want to think about it anymore. We laid down on the mat under us and curled up tightly, pressing our face to the musty fabric. We were glad beyond relief that we were alone. We weren’t _sleepy_ , but we were so tired. The crushing weight of Jared's rejection and betrayal was so heavy it exhausted us. We closed our eyes and tried to think about things that wouldn't make our stinging eyes tear again. Anything but the appalled look on Jared's face when he'd said “ _us_ ”...

What was Jamie doing now? Did he know we were here, or was he looking for us? Ian would be asleep for a long time, he'd looked so exhausted. Would Kyle wake soon? Would he come in search? Where was Jeb? We hadn't seen him all day. Was Doc really drinking himself unconscious? That seemed so unlike him...

We woke slowly, roused by our growling stomach. We lay quietly for a few minutes, trying to orient ourselves. Was it day or night? How long had we slept here alone? Our stomach wouldn't be ignored for long, though, and we rolled up onto our knees. We must have slept for a while to be this hungry—missed a meal or two.

We could eat something from the supply pile in the hole… it was so close to us and it would allow us a few more moments of solitude before having to get out of here to meet the world. Well, what was left of it. But guilt stopped us—we couldn’t take more that wasn’t ours. We’d go scavenge some rolls from the kitchen. Or maybe an actual good and filling meal.

_It’s not for me_ , I said quietly.

_It’s for_ me _, since I’m human, so get over it_ , Mel said.

_Speaking of humans…_ I thought.

No one had come looking for us. It was stupid to feel hurt about it, because why should anyone care what happened to me? But the hurt was there anyway. We were still unbearably relieved to find Jamie sitting in the doorway to the big garden, his back turned on the human world behind him, unmistakably waiting for us.

Our eyes brightened, and so did his. He scrambled to his feet, relief washing over his features.

"You're okay," he said; we wished he were right. We stamped down on Mel’s sardonic smile. "I mean, I didn't think Jared was lying, but he said he thought you wanted to be alone, and Jeb said I couldn't go check on you and that I had to stay right here where he could see that I wasn't sneaking back there, but even though I didn't think you were hurt or anything, it was hard to not know for sure, you know?"

"We’re fine," we told him. But we still held our arms out, seeking comfort. He threw his arms around our waist, and we were shocked to find that his head could rest on our shoulder while we stood. How much he had grown! Even in the few months we’d been away from him…

"Your eyes are red," he whispered. "Was he mean to you?"

"No." After all, people weren't intentionally cruel to lab rats—they were just trying to get information.

_Fuck that_ , Mel thought darkly.

"Whatever you said to him, I think he believes us now. About Mel, I mean. How does she feel?"

“We’re fine,” we repeated softly.

He nodded, pleased. “I know you wouldn’t _really_ tell me if he hurt you, but Mel wouldn’t hide it from me.”

There was a pause.

“He _was_ kind of a dick,” we admitted.

Jamie grinned, though it dimmed when he remembered we were talking about _Jared_ treating us badly.

Behind him, the light in the garden was red and fading. The sun had already set on the desert.

"Is there anything left in the kitchen?" we asked him, pulling away from our hug.

"I knew you would ask that. I saved you something good."

"Bread's fine," we said in a warning voice. “There’s no need to get anything special.”

"Let it go, Wanda. Ian says you're too self-sacrificing for your own good."

I made a face.

“Can’t deny it,” Mel said.

"I think he's got a point," Jamie muttered. "Even if we all want you here, you don't belong until you decide you do."

"I can't ever belong. And nobody really wants me here, Jamie."

"I do."

I didn't fight with him, even though he was wrong. Not lying, because he believed what he was saying. But what he really wanted was Melanie. He didn't separate us the way he should—but how could I blame him? What could I say to him? We _weren’t_ separate.

Trudy and Heidi were baking rolls in the kitchen and sharing a bright green, juicy apple. They took turns taking bites.

"It's good to see you, Wanda," Trudy said sincerely, covering her mouth while she spoke because she was still chewing her last bite. Heidi nodded in greeting, her teeth sunk in the apple. Jamie nudged us, trying to be inconspicuous about it—pointing out that people wanted us. He wasn't making allowances for common courtesy.

"Did you save her dinner?" he asked eagerly.

"Yep," Trudy said. She bent down beside the oven and came back with a metal tray in her hand. "Kept it warm. It's probably nasty and tough now, but it's better than the usual."

On the tray was a rather large piece of red meat. Our mouth started to water, even as we rejected the portion I'd been allotted.

"It's too much. You can cut it in half and help with eating it, how about that?"

"We have to eat all the perishables the first day," Jamie encouraged. "Everyone eats themselves sick, it's a tradition."

"You need the protein," Trudy added. "We were on cave rations too long. I'm surprised no one's in worse shape."

We ate our protein while Jamie watched with hawk-like attention as each bite traveled from the tray to our mouth. We ate it all to please him, though it made our stomach ache to eat so much.

The kitchen started to fill up again as we were finishing. A few had apples in their hands, all sharing with someone else. Curious eyes examined the sore side of our face.

"Why's everyone coming here now?" we muttered to Jamie. It was black outside, the dinner hour long over.

Jamie looked at us blankly for a second. "To hear you teach." His tone added the words _of course_.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I told you nothing's changed."

We stared around the narrow room. It wasn't a full house. No Doc tonight, and none of the returned raiders, which meant no Paige, either. No Jeb, no Ian, no Walter. A few others missing: Travis, Carol, Ruth Ann. But more than we would have thought, if we had thought anyone would consider following the normal routine after such an abnormal day.

"Can we go back to the Dolphins, where we left off?" Wes asked, interrupting our evaluation of the room. We could see that he'd taken it upon himself to start the ball rolling, rather than that he was vitally interested in the kinship circles of an alien planet.

Everyone looked at us expectantly. Apparently, life was not changing as much as we had thought.

We took a tray of rolls from Heidi's hands and turned to shove it into the stone oven. I started talking with our back still turned.

"So... um... hmm... the, uh, third set of grandparents... They traditionally serve the community, as they see it. On Earth, they would be the breadwinners, the ones who leave the home and bring back sustenance. They are farmers, for the most part. They cultivate a plant-like growth that they milk for its sap..."

And life went on.

Jamie tried to talk us out of sleeping in the supply corridor, but his attempt was halfhearted. There just wasn't another place for me, and Mel was too fired up with rage and pain about Jared’s betrayal to want to risk seeing him again. Stubborn as usual, Jamie insisted on sharing our quarters. Jared probably didn't like that, but as we didn't see him that night or the next day, we couldn't verify the theory.

It was awkward again, going about our usual chores, with the six raiders home—just like when Jeb had first forced us to join the community. Hostile stares, angry silences. It was harder for them than it was for us, though—we were used to it. They, on the other hand, were entirely unaccustomed to the way everyone else treated us. When we were helping with the corn harvest, for example, and Lily thanked us for a fresh basket with a smile, Andy's eyes bulged in their sockets at the exchange. Or when we were waiting for the bathing pool with Trudy and Heidi, and Heidi began playing with our hair. It was growing, always swinging in our eyes; Mel was glad to have it like she remembered it. Heidi was trying to find a style for us, flipping the strands this way and that. Brandt and Aaron—Aaron was the oldest man who'd gone on the long raid, someone we couldn't remember having seen before at all—came out and found us there, Trudy laughing at some silly atrocity Heidi was attempting to create atop our head, and both men turned a little green and stalked silently past us.

Of course, little things like that were nothing. Kyle roamed the caves now, and though he was obviously under orders to leave us in peace, his expression made it clear that this restriction was repugnant to him. We were always with others when we crossed his path, and we wondered if that was the only reason he did nothing more than glower at us and unconsciously curl his thick fingers into claws. This brought back all the panic from our first weeks here, and we might have succumbed to it—but I couldn’t scrounge up panic enough for that with Mel suppressing her own potential for violence when it came to Kyle.

_If he hits us, we’re going to hit him back_ , she snarled.

_I don’t want to hit anybody_ , I told her quietly, for all that rage filled _me_ whenever Kyle passed by.

_You can’t lie to me, Wanda._

_You can’t either,_ I shot back. _You don’t_ really _want to hurt him._

Not really, I could tell; she didn’t want to _wound_ him, just stop him. So did I.

But either way, something more important than Kyle's murderous glares came to our attention that second night.

The kitchen filled up again—we weren’t sure how much was interest in my stories and how much was interest in the chocolate bars Jeb handed out. I nearly declined ours before Mel snatched it from Jamie’s hand. Ian was back in his usual hot seat by the fire, and Andy was there—eyes wary—beside Paige. None of the other raiders, including Jared, of course, was in attendance. Doc was not there, and we wondered if he was still drunk or perhaps hung-over. And again, Walter was absent.

Geoffrey, Trudy's husband, questioned me for the first time tonight. I was pleased, though I tried not to show it, that he seemed to have joined the ranks of the humans who tolerated me. But I couldn't answer his questions well, which was too bad. His questions were like Doc's.

"I don't really know anything about Healing," I admitted. "I never went to a Healer after... after I first got here. I haven't been sick. All I know is that we wouldn't choose a planet unless we were able to maintain the host bodies perfectly. There's nothing that can't be healed, from a simple cut, a broken bone, to a disease. Old age is the only cause of death now. Even healthy human bodies were only designed to last for so long. And there are accidents, too, I guess, though those don't happen as often with the souls. We're cautious."

"Armed humans aren't just an accident," someone muttered. We were moving hot rolls and didn't see who spoke, and didn't recognize the voice.

"Yes, that's true," we agreed with a roll of our eyes.

"So you don't know what they use to cure diseases, then?" Geoffrey pressed. "What's in their medications?"

We shook our head. "I'm sorry, I don't. It wasn't something I was interested in, back when I had access to the information. I'm afraid I took it for granted. Good health is simply a given on every planet I've lived on."

Geoffrey's red cheeks flushed brighter than usual. He looked down, an angry set to his mouth. What had I said to offend him? Heath, sitting beside Geoffrey, patted his arm. There was a pregnant silence in the room.

"Uh—about the Vultures..." Ian said—the words were forced, a deliberate subject change. "I don't know if I missed this part sometime, but I don't remember you ever explaining about them being ‘unkind’...?"

It wasn't something I had explained, but we were pretty sure he wasn't really that interested—this was just the first question he'd been able to think of.

The informal class ended earlier than usual. The questions were slow, and most of them supplied by Jamie and Ian. Geoffrey's questions had left everyone else preoccupied.

"Well, we've got an early one tomorrow, tearing down the stalks..." Jeb mused after yet another awkward silence, making the words a dismissal. People rose to their feet and stretched, talking in low voices that weren't casual enough.

"What did I say?" I whispered to Ian.

"Nothing. They've got mortality on their minds." He sighed.

Mel straightened up, understanding shooting through us at once.

"Where's Walter?" we demanded, still whispering.

Ian sighed again. "He's in the south wing. He's... not doing well."

"Why didn't anyone say anything?"

"Things have been... difficult for you lately, so..."

We shook our head impatiently at that consideration. "What's wrong with him?"

Jamie was there beside us now; he took our hand.

"Some of Walter's bones snapped, they're so brittle," he said in a hushed voice. "Doc's sure it's cancer—final stages, he says."

"Walt must have been keeping quiet about the pain for a long while now," Ian added somberly.

We winced. "And there's nothing to be done? Nothing at all?"

Ian shook his head, keeping his brilliant eyes on ours. "Not for us. Even if we weren't stuck here, there would be no help for him now. We never cured that one."

We bit our lip against the suggestion I wanted to make. Of course there was nothing to do for Walter. Any of these humans would rather die slowly and in pain than trade their mind for their body's cure. A shiver ran through us at the thought.

"He's been asking for you," Ian continued. "Well, he says your name sometimes; it's hard to tell what he means—Doc's keeping him drunk to help with the pain."

"Doc feels real bad about using so much of the alcohol himself," Jamie added. "Bad timing, all around."

"Can we visit him?" we asked. "Or will that make the others unhappy?"

Ian frowned and snorted. "Wouldn't that be just like some people, to get worked up over this?" He shook his head. "Who cares, though, right? If it's Walt's final wish... we’ll go visit him."

"Right," we agreed. The word _final_ had our eyes burning. "If Walter wants this, then it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I’d like to see them try to stop us."

"Don't worry about that—I'm not going to let anybody harass you." Ian's white lips pressed into a thin line.

We reflexively looked down at our wrist, for all that we hadn’t worn a clock in ages. Time had ceased to mean much to us, but suddenly we felt the weight of a deadline. "Is it too late to go tonight? Will we disturb him?"

"He's not sleeping regular hours. We can go see."

We started walking at once, dragging Jamie because he still gripped my hand. The sense of passing time, of endings and finality, propelled us forward. Ian caught up quickly, though, with his long stride.

In the moonlit garden cavern, we passed others who for the most part paid us no mind. We were too often in the company of Jamie and Ian to cause any curiosity, though we weren't headed for the usual tunnels.

The one exception was Kyle. He froze midstride when he saw his brother beside us. His eyes flashed down to see Jamie's hand in mine, and then his lips twisted into a snarl. Having reached out breaking point with this bullshit, we opened our lips in a snarl right back.

Kyle’s eyes narrowed.

Ian squared his shoulders as he absorbed his brother's reaction—his mouth curled into a mirror of Kyle's—and he deliberately reached for our other hand. Kyle made a noise like he was about to be sick and turned his back on us.

When we were in the blackness of the long tunnel south, we tried to free that hand. Ian gripped it tighter.

“Stop baiting him," we muttered, and Mel tugged our hand definitely out of his hold.

"Kyle is wrong. Being wrong is sort of a habit with him. He'll take longer than anyone else to get over it, but that doesn't mean we should make allowances for him."

"I don't want him to have more reasons to hate me," I admitted in a whisper.

Jamie squeezed our hand and Ian reached for the other again, squeezing it too. They spoke simultaneously.

"Don't be afraid," Jamie said.

"Jeb's made his opinion very clear," Ian said.

"What do you mean?" we asked Ian.

"If Kyle can't accept Jeb's rules, then he's no longer welcome here."

We frowned. “You mean… he’ll be kicked out? But he’s human.”

Ian grunted. "He's staying... so he'll just have to learn to deal."

We didn't talk again through the long walk. Guilt felt uncomfortable, though it seemed to be a permanent emotional state here. Guilt and fear and heartbreak. Why had I come?

_We do belong here_ , Mel whispered. She squeezed Jamie’s and Ian’s hands in turn. _Where else have you ever had this?_

_Nowhere,_ I confessed, feeling only more depressed. _But it doesn't make me belong._

_We belong here more than a brute like Kyle_ , Mel retorted. _Do you think_ Kyle _went to visit Walter?_

_Walter’s not his friend like he’s mine_ , I said.

_He’s not_ my _friend either, is he? He didn’t defend_ me. _But I’m still going and I’m still sad._

I was surprised to see the depth of her grief for Walter, though I don’t know why this sort of thing surprised me anymore. Walter had defended me, but of course Mel had been there with me, as she had been all the times we had seen him, spoken to him, whenever he had been kind.

One of those dim blue lights greeted us as we approached the hospital wing. (We knew now that the lanterns were solar powered, left in sunny corners during the day to charge.) We all moved more quietly, slowing at the same time without having to discuss it.

I hated this room. In the darkness, with the odd shadows thrown by the weak glow, it seemed only more forbidding. There was a new smell—the room reeked of slow decay and stinging alcohol and bile. Mel didn’t hate it as much, if only because for her a run-down human hospital was much better than a perfect soul one.

Two of the cots were occupied. Doc's feet hung over the edge of one; we recognized his light snore. On the other, looking hideously withered and misshapen, Walter watched us approach.

"Are you up for visitors, Walt?" Ian whispered when Walter's eyes drifted in his direction.

"Ungh," Walter moaned. His lips drooped from his slack face, and his skin gleamed wetly in the low light.

"Is there anything you need?" we murmured. We pulled our hands free—they fluttered helplessly in the air between us and Walter.

His loosely rolling eyes searched the darkness. We took a step closer.

"Is there anything we can do for you? Anything at all?"

His eyes roamed till they found our face. Abruptly, they focused through the drunken stupor and the pain.

"Finally," he gasped. His breath wheezed and whistled. "I knew you would come if I waited long enough. Oh, Gladys, I have so much to tell you."


	3. chapter 31: NEEDED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter of wh.! A very satisfying one. YEARS I've spent wanting Mel to be more present in this scene! I hope you guys like it.

We froze and then looked quickly over our shoulder to see if someone was behind us.

"Gladys was his wife," Jamie whispered almost silently. "She didn't escape."

"Gladys," Walter said to us, oblivious to our reaction. "Would you believe I went and got cancer? What are the odds, eh? Never took a sick day in my life..." His voice faded out until we couldn't hear it, but his lips continued to move. He was too weak to lift his hand; his fingers dragged themselves toward the edge of the cot, toward us.

Ian nudged us forward.

"What do we—what do I do?" we breathed. The sweat beading on our forehead had nothing to do with the humid heat, and lines appeared between our brows; we were out of our depth.

"... grandfather lived to be a hundred and one," Walter wheezed, audible again. "Nobody ever had cancer in my family, not even the cousins. Didn't your aunt Regan have skin cancer, though?"

He looked at us trustingly, waiting for an answer. Ian poked us in the back.

"Um..." I mumbled. “I don’t know, Walter,” Mel said honestly.

"Maybe that was Bill's aunt," Walter allowed.

We shot a glance at Ian, who shrugged. "Help," I mouthed at him.

He motioned for us to take Walter's searching fingers.

Walter's skin was chalk white and translucent. We could see the faint pulse of blood in the blue veins on the back of his hand. We lifted his hand carefully, worried about the slender bones that Jamie had said were so brittle. It felt too light, as if it were hollow.

"Ah, Gladdie, it's been hard without you. It's a nice place here; you'll like it, even when I'm gone. Plenty of people to talk to—I know how you need to have your conversation..." The volume of his voice sank until we couldn't make out the words anymore, but his lips still shaped the words he wanted to share with his wife. His mouth kept moving, even when his eyes closed and his head lolled to the side.

Ian found a wet cloth and began wiping Walter's shining face.

"Deception doesn’t really come easy," we whispered, watching Walter's mumbling lips to make sure he wasn't listening to me. I was too honest, Mel too straightforward. "If he gets upset…"

"You don't have to say anything," Ian reassured. "He's not lucid enough to care."

"Did she look like Mel?"

Ian winced at our words, shooting us a look, but answered: "Not a bit—I've seen her picture. Stocky redhead."

"Here, hand that over."

Ian gave us the rag, and we cleaned the sweat off Walter's neck. Busy hands always made us feel more comfortable—we needed to do something and here was something to be done. Walter continued to mumble. We thought we heard him say, "Thanks, Gladdie, that's nice."

We didn't notice that Doc's snores had stopped. His familiar voice was suddenly there behind us, too gentle to startle.

"How is he?"

"Delusional," Ian whispered. "Is that the brandy or the pain?"

"More the pain, I would think. I'd trade my right arm for some morphine."

"Maybe Jared will produce another miracle," Ian suggested.

"Maybe," Doc sighed.

We looked up, wiping absently at Walter's pallid face. The men looked down at me and shrugged, and didn't speak of Jared again.

 _Not here_ , Melanie whispered.

 _Looking for help for Walter_ , I agreed.

 _Alone_ , she added.

I thought about the last time we'd seen him—the kiss, the belief... He probably wanted some time to himself.

_I hope he isn't out there convincing himself that we’re a very talented actress-slash-Seeker again._

_Knowing him, that’s exactly what he’s doing._

Melanie groaned silently.

Ian and Doc murmured in quiet voices about inconsequential things, mostly Ian catching Doc up on what was going on in the caves.

"What happened to Wanda's face?" Doc whispered, but we could still hear him easily.

"More of the same," Ian said in a tight voice.

Doc made an unhappy noise under his breath and then clicked his tongue.

Ian told him a bit about tonight's awkward class, about Geoffrey's questions.

"It would have been convenient if Melanie had been possessed by a Healer," Doc mused.

“You wouldn’t have let me do anything,” Mel said dryly.

The men were quiet, probably because it was true.

"We're lucky we have you," Ian murmured, half guilty. "No one else—"

We shrugged. Doc sighed.

“I think we’re desperate enough we would have,” he said.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. I was careless to reap the benefits of perfect health without ever being curious about the cause.

 _Don’t be stupid_ , Mel said, impatient with my easy guilt. _It’s not like the entirety of humanity was made up of doctors either._

A hand touched our shoulder. "You have nothing to apologize for," Ian said.

Mel made a face. Jamie was being very quiet. We looked around and saw that he was curled up on the cot where Doc had been napping.

"It's late," Doc noted. "Walter's not going anywhere tonight. You should get some sleep."

"We'll be back," Ian promised. "Let us know what we can bring, for either of you."

We laid Walter's hand down, patting it cautiously. His eyes snapped open, focusing with more awareness than before.

"Are you leaving?" he wheezed. "Do you have to go so soon?"

We took his hand again quickly. "No, of course not, don’t worry."

He smiled and closed his eyes again. His fingers locked around ours with brittle strength.

Ian sighed.

"You can go," I told him, even though Mel sighed minutely. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to stay with Walter, but she was not one to linger when there was nothing real to be done. "I don't mind. Take Jamie back to his bed."

Ian glanced around the room. "Hold on a sec," he said, and then he grabbed the cot closest to him. It wasn't heavy—he lifted it easily and slid it into place next to Walter's. We stretched our arm to the limit, trying not to jostle Walter, so that Ian could arrange the cot under it. Then he grabbed us up just as easily and set us on the cot beside Walter.

We froze. Our face was a mask of a grimace and our chest churned with feelings we couldn’t quite untangle or name; we didn’t _want_ him touching us so easily, but we rejoiced at his ease at it, like we were human. Like we were a person. But he didn’t even ask, he just—

 _Handsy prick,_ Mel muttered, curling our shoulders in when Ian stepped back, giving us a strange look.

 _He was being kind_ , I murmured.

It would have been simple if I had been the one to marvel at his ease with us and Mel hadn’t wanted him near, but things always came in layers with us—thoughts upon thoughts, doubling over into themselves and each other. We thought about his hands around our throat, and his protective stance by our side, and the difference between his hands and Jared’s, and one of the few people who touched us like we were real, like we mattered, and his mask of rage on the first days we had been here.

We touched the hollow of our throat. The bruises were probably gone, but for a moment we could still feel them.

“Alright?” Ian asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Alright,” we said. “Just—sudden. _Ask_ , Ian. Yes?”

“Sorry,” he said, half-embarrassed. He jerked his chin toward Walter's hand clasped around mine. "Do you think you can sleep like that?"

"Yeah, sure. This is very comfortable compared to some other places."

"Sleep well, then." He smiled, then turned and lifted Jamie from the other cot. "Let's go, kid," he muttered, carrying the boy with no more effort than if he were an infant. Ian's quiet footsteps faded into the distance until we couldn't hear them anymore.

Doc yawned and went to sit behind the desk he'd constructed out of wooden crates and an aluminum door, taking the dim lamp with him. Walter's face was too dark to see, and that made us nervous. It was like he was already gone. We took comfort in his fingers, still curled stiffly around ours.

Doc began to shuffle through some papers, humming almost inaudibly to himself. We drifted off to the sound of the gentle rustling.

Walter recognized us in the morning.

He didn't wake until Ian showed up to escort us back; the cornfield was due to be cleared of the old stalks. We told Doc we would bring him breakfast before we got to work. The very last thing we did was to carefully loosen our numb fingers, freeing them from Walter's grasp.

His eyes opened. "Wanda," he whispered.

"Walter?" We weren’t sure how long he would know us, or if he would remember last night. His hand clutched at the empty air, so we gave him our left, the one that wasn't dead.

"You came to see me. That was nice. I know... with the others back... must be hard... for you... Your face..."

He seemed to be having a difficult time making his lips form the words, and his eyes went in and out of focus. How like him, that his first words to me would be full of concern. Sadness was a well inside our chest; out of everyone, why him? We sat down beside him.

 _The world isn’t fair_ , Mel said, voice small and resigned.

"Everything's fine, Walter,” we said. “How are you feeling?"

"Ah—" He groaned quietly. "Not so... Doc?"

"Right here," Doc murmured, close behind us.

"Got any more liquor?" he gasped.

"Of course."

Doc was already prepared. He held the mouth of a thick glass bottle to Walter's slack lips and carefully poured the dark brown liquid in slow drips into his mouth. Walter winced as each sip burned down his throat. Some of it trickled out the side of his mouth and onto his pillow. The smell stung our nose.

"Better?" Doc asked after a long moment of slow pouring.

Walter grunted. It didn't sound like assent. His eyes closed.

"More?" Doc asked.

Walter grimaced and then moaned.

Doc cursed under his breath. "Where's Jared?" he muttered.

We tensed at the name.

Walter's face sagged. His head rolled back on his neck.

"Walter?" we whispered.

"The pain's too much for him to stay conscious. Let him be," Doc said.

Our throat felt swollen. "Is there anything to be done?"

Doc's voice was desolate. "Nothing. We have no way to help. I'm useless."

"Don't be like that, Doc," we heard Ian murmur. "This isn't your fault. The world doesn't work the way it used to. No one expects more of you."

Our shoulders hunched inward. No, their world didn't work the same way anymore.

 _Ours_ , Mel said.

_Mel…_

_It’s not your damn fault, stop this,_ she said, annoyance making our lips tug down. _You didn’t personally do anything to hurt anybody and you can’t fault yourself for the faults of an entire galactical fucking empire._

 _We’re not an empire_ , I argued. _And I did do something. I took you._

Mel was quiet for a moment.

_I took you too, didn’t I?_

I didn’t know how to answer. Either way, there was no one to miss me, was there?

A finger tapped our arm, startling us out of conversation. "Let's go," Ian whispered.

We nodded and started to pull our hand free again.

Walter's eyes rolled open, unseeing. "Gladdie? Are you here?" he implored.

"Um... I'm here," we said uncertainly, letting his fingers lock around ours again.

Ian shrugged. "I'll get you both some food," he whispered, and then he left.

We waited anxiously for him to return, unnerved by Walter's misconception. We were already two people in one, we didn’t need a third to muddle waters even further. A part of us thought it was hilarious, but a very small part. The word _throuple_ rose to our mind and we ruthlessly shoved it away.

Walter murmured Gladys's name over and over, but he didn't seem to need anything from us, thank god. After a while, half an hour maybe, we began listening for Ian's footsteps in the tunnel, wondering what could be taking him so long. Usually he was so attached to _Wanda._

I rolled our eyes, since Doc wasn’t looking at us.

 _Wanda is_ us _, technically,_ I said. _They gave us the name after we arrived here, when we were already—you know. After we almost died and this happened._

 _It’s a nickname for_ your _name_ , Mel said dismissively. _And we were already pretending that we’re not us._

 _What would they call us instead?_ I asked dryly. _Melanderer?_

We snorted.

Doc blinked at the noise. He had been by his desk staring into nothing with his shoulders slumped, but now he was looking at us with something like curiosity in his eyes. It was easy to see how useless he felt even then—he felt… blurred. Like he was only half there.

And then we did hear something, but it wasn't footsteps.

"What is that?" we asked Doc in a whisper; Walter was quiet again, maybe unconscious. We weren’t going to disturb him.

Doc cocked his head to the side at the same time to listen.

The noise was a funny thrumming, a fast, soft beat. We thought we heard it get just a little louder, but then it seemed quieter again.

"That's weird," Doc said. "It almost sounds like..." He paused, his forehead furrowing in concentration as the unfamiliar sound faded.

We were listening intently, so we heard the footsteps when they were still far away. They did not match the expected, even pace of Ian's return. He was running—no, sprinting. We tensed, muscles reacting faster than us to the realization that _something had happened_. Our legs didn’t move, but we were suddenly _aware_ of them, ready to sprint up and run or kick at the slightest movement.

Doc reacted immediately to the sound of trouble. He jogged quickly out to meet Ian. We wished we could see what was wrong, too, but Walter was still attached to us and it would feel like a crime to disturb him. We strained our ears to listen instead.

"Brandt?" we heard Doc say in surprise.

"Where is it? Where is it?" the other man demanded breathlessly. The running footsteps only paused for a second, then started up again, not quite as fast.

"What are you talking about?" Doc asked, calling back this way.

"The parasite!" Brandt hissed impatiently, anxiously, as he burst through the arched entry.

Brandt was not a big man like Kyle or Ian; he was probably only a few inches taller than us, but he was thick and solid as a rhinoceros. His eyes swept the room; his piercing gaze focused on our face for half a second, then took in Walter's oblivious form, and then raced around the room only to end up on us again.

Doc caught up with Brandt then, his long fingers gripping Brandt's shoulder just as the broader man took the first step in our direction.

We stood up before we realized we had done it, hand still attached to Walter, who gave a low moan but stayed unconscious.

"What are you doing?" Doc asked, his voice the closest to a growl we'd ever heard it.

Before Brandt answered, the odd sound returned, going from soft to screaming loud to soft again with a suddenness that had us all frozen. The beats thudded right on top of one another, shaking the air when they were at their loudest.

"Is that—is that a helicopter?" Doc asked, whispering.

"Yes," Brandt whispered back. "It's the Seeker—the one from before, the one who was looking for it." He jerked his chin at us.

Our throat was suddenly too small—the breaths moving through it were thin and shallow, not enough. We felt dizzy.

_No. Not now. Please._

_What is her problem?_ Mel snarled. _Why can't she leave us alone?_

_We can't let her hurt them!_

_But how do we stop her?_

_I don't know. She’s looking for me—I should have done something before I left, I should have tried harder—_

_We weren’t us yet_ , Mel reasoned; I had wanted a failsafe, something to return to just in case. We thought about my old plans to replace Mel, to throw her away and kill her and use another body, and flinched; Mel gone, me alone. It was unbearable.

"Are you sure?" Doc asked.

"Kyle got a clear view through the binoculars while it was hovering. Same one he saw before."

"Is it looking here?" Doc's voice was suddenly horrified. He half spun, eyes flashing toward the exit. "Where's Sharon?"

Brandt shook his head. "It's just running sweeps. Starts at Picacho, then fans out in spokes. Doesn't look like it's focusing on anything close. Circled around a few times where we dumped the car."

"Sharon?" Doc asked again.

"She's with the kids and Lucina. They're fine. The boys are getting things packed in case we have to roll tonight, but Jeb says it's not likely."

Doc exhaled, then paced over to his desk. He slouched against it, looking as if he'd just run a long race. "So it's nothing new, really," he murmured.

"Naw. Just have to lay low for a few days," Brandt reassured him. His eyes were flickering around the room again, settling on us every other second. "Do you have any rope handy?" he asked. He pulled up the edge of the sheet on an empty cot, examining it.

"Rope?" Doc echoed blankly.

"For the parasite. Kyle sent me out here to secure it."

Our muscles contracted involuntarily; our hand gripped Walter's fingers too tightly, and he whimpered again. We tried to force it to relax while we kept our eyes on Brandt's hard face. He was waiting for Doc, expectant. We tried not to smile at him; if he wanted to bind us, he was going to have to force us.

 _They won’t hurt us again_ , we thought.

"You're here to secure Wanda?" Doc said, his voice hard again. "And what makes you think that's necessary?"

"Come on, Doc. Don't be stupid. You've got some big vents in here, and a lot of reflective metal." Brandt gestured to a file cabinet against the far wall. "You let your attention wander for half a minute, and it'll be flashing signals to that Seeker."

We sucked in a shocked breath; it was loud in the still room.

"See?" Brandt said. "Guessed its plan in one."

We wanted to bury ourselves under a boulder to hide from the bulging, relentless eyes of our Seeker, yet he imagined we wanted to guide her in. Bring her here to kill Jamie, Jared, Jeb, Ian... we felt like gagging, and like punching the daylights out of him. All we ever wanted was to keep our people safe.

"You can go, Brandt," Doc said in an icy tone. "I will keep an eye on Wanda."

Brandt raised one eyebrow. "What happened to you guys? To you and Ian and Trudy and the rest? It's like you're all hypnotized. If your eyes weren't right, I'd have to wonder..."

"Go ahead and wonder all you want, Brandt. But get out while you're doing it."

Brandt shook his head. "I've got a job to do."

Doc walked toward Brandt, stopping when he was between Brandt and us. He folded his arms across his chest.

"You're not going to touch her."

Relief and gratitude swirled in our chest. Doc was so kind—not that we _needed_ him to get between us—but we did.

 _We don’t want a fight,_ I said.

Mel tried to scowl.

The throbbing helicopter blades sounded in the distance. We were all very still, not breathing, until they faded.

Brandt shook his head when it was quiet again. He didn't speak; he just went to the desk and picked up Doc's chair. He carried it to the wall by the file cabinet, slammed it to the ground, and then sat down hard, making the metal legs squeal against the stone. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and stared at us. A vulture waiting for a dying hare to stop moving.

We stared right back at him, eyes hard. Maybe we shouldn’t have, but Walter was behind us and completely defenseless. Brandt’s presence chafed, as threatening to us as the helicopter outside.

Doc's jaw tightened, making a little popping noise.

"Gladys," Walter muttered, surfacing from his dazed sleep. "You're here."

“I’m here,” we reassured, settling down again by his side and patting his hand for all that we didn’t look away from Brandt. His clouded eyes searched our face, seeing features that weren’t there.

"It hurts, Gladdie. It hurts a lot."

"I know," we said. "Doc?"

He was already there, the brandy in hand. "Open up, Walter."

The sound of the helicopter thumped quietly, far away but still much too close. Doc flinched, and a few drops of brandy splattered on our arm.

It was a horrible day. The worst of my life on this planet, even including our first day in the caves and the last hot, dry day in the desert, hours from death.

The helicopter circled and circled. Sometimes more than an hour would pass, and we would think it was finally over. Then the sound would come back, and we would see the Seeker's obstinate face in our head, her protruding eyes scouring the blank desert for some sign of humans. We tried to will her away, concentrating hard on our memories of the desert's featureless, colorless plain, as if we could somehow make sure she saw nothing else, as if we could bore her into leaving.

Brandt never took his suspicious stare off of us. We could always feel it, even in the moments we looked away from him. It got a little better when Ian came back with both breakfast and lunch. He was all dirty from packing in case of an evacuation—whatever that meant. Nobody ever told us anything. Did they have anywhere to go? Ian scowled so hard he looked like Kyle when Brandt explained in clipped phrases why he was there. Then Ian dragged another empty cot beside ours, so that he could sit in Brandt's line of sight and block his view.

We felt gratitude and grudging gratitude and relief and bitterness and we were glad that he was there. We looked away from him, trying to focus on Walter and not on ourselves.

The helicopter, Brandt's distrustful watch, these were not really so bad. On an ordinary day—if there was really such a thing anymore—either one of these might have seemed agonizing. Today, they were nothing.

By noon, Doc had given Walter the last of the brandy. It seemed like only minutes later that Walter was writhing, moaning, and gasping for breath. His fingers bruised and chafed ours, but if we ever pulled away, his moans turned to shrill screams. We ducked out once to use the latrine; Brandt followed us, which made Ian feel like he had to come, too, even though by then we would have been glad for a fight. By the time we got back—after nearly running the whole way—Walter's screams no longer sounded human. Doc's face was hollow with echoed agony. Walter quieted after we spoke to him for a moment, letting him think his wife was near. It was an easy lie, a kind one. Brandt made little noises of irritation, but we knew that he was wrong to be upset. Nothing mattered beside Walter's pain.

The whimpers and the writhing continued, though, and Brandt paced back and forth at the other end of the room, trying to be as far from the sound as possible.

Jamie came looking for us, bringing food enough for four, when the light was growing orangey overhead. We wouldn't let him stay, voice hard and firm; our words were enough to send him to the kitchen to eat, and we got Ian to promise he would go with him, would watch him all night so he wouldn’t sneak back here. Walter couldn't help shrieking when his twisting moved his broken leg, and the sound of it was nearly unbearable. Jamie shouldn't have this night burned into his memory the way it would surely be burned into Doc's and ours. Perhaps Brandt's as well, though he did what he could to ignore Walter, plugging his ears and humming a dissonant tune.

 _Coward_ , we thought.

Doc did not try to distance himself from Walter's hideous suffering; instead, he suffered with him. Walter's cries carved deep lines in Doc's face, like claws raking his skin.

We thought about how afraid we had been of Doc, but we couldn’t look at him the same way after watching him live Walter’s pain. So great was his compassion, he seemed to bleed internally with it. As we watched, it became impossible to believe that Doc was a cruel person; the man simply could not be a torturer. We tried to remember what had been said to found our conjectures—had anyone made the accusation outright? We didn't think so. We must have jumped to false conclusions in our terror.

 _He sees us as human_ , Mel whispered. _He sees us as a friend. If he didn’t—_

But we looked at his wretched face and doubted we could ever mistrust Doc again after this nightmarish day. However, I would always find his hospital a horrible place.

When the last of the daylight disappeared, so did the helicopter. We sat in the darkness, not daring to turn on even the dim blue light. It took a few hours before any of us would believe the hunt was over. Brandt was the first to accept it; he'd had enough of the hospital, too.

"Makes sense for it to give up," he muttered, edging out the exit. "Nothing to see at night. I'll just take your light with me, Doc, so that Jeb's pet parasite can't get up to anything, and be on my way."

Doc didn't respond, didn't even look at the sullen man as he left.

"Make it stop, Gladdie, make it stop!" Walter begged. We wiped the sweat from his face while he crushed our hand.

Time seemed to slow down and stop; the black night felt unending. Walter's screams got more and more frequent, more and more excruciating. Doc stood at his desk like a statue, quiet and alone even with us there, bearing his pain in solitude, and we were glad, suddenly and fiercely, for ourselves.

We curled our other hand around Walter’s and ours, holding him and each other; we were together, if nothing else; if everything else was gone, we would have each other. We were stronger for it, better—bigger than the sum of ours parts, yes. There was no separating us now. We thought about the surgery, or even about a miracle: Mel back to herself, opening our eyes alone, and me opening someone else’s, and it _hurt._

Eventually, a dim gray light started to creep in through the high vents overhead. We were hovering on the edge of sleep, Walter's moans and screams keeping us from sinking under. We could hear Doc snoring behind me. We were glad that he'd been able to escape for a little while.

We didn't hear Jared come in. We were mumbling weak assurances, barely coherent, trying to calm Walter.

"I'm here, I'm here," we murmured as he cried out his wife's name. "Shh, it's okay." The words were meaningless. It was something to say, though, and it did seem that our voice calmed the worst of his cries.

We don't know how long Jared watched us with Walter before we realized he was there. It must have been a while. We were sure his first reaction would be anger, but when we heard him speak, his voice was cool.

"Doc," he said, and we heard the cot behind us shake. "Doc, wake up."

We jerked our hand free, whirling, disoriented, to see the face that went with the unmistakable voice.

His eyes were on us as he shook the sleeping man's shoulder. They were impossible to read in the dim light. His face had no expression at all. We poured over his features, trying to read his thoughts behind the mask.

"Gladdie! Don't leave! Don't!" Walter's screech had Doc bolting upright, nearly capsizing his cot.

We spun back to Walter, shoving our sore hand into his searching fingers.

"Shhh, shhh! Walter, I'm here. I won't leave. I won't, promise."

He quieted down, whimpering like a small child. We wiped the damp cloth over his forehead; his sob hitched and turned into a sigh.

"What's that about?" Jared murmured behind us.

"She's the best painkiller I've been able to find," Doc said wearily.

"Well, I've found you something better than a tame Seeker."

Our stomach knotted. We squeezed our eyes shut for all that we wanted to hiss in frustration.

 _So stupidly, blindly stubborn!_ Mel growled. _He wouldn't believe us if we told him the sun sets in the west._

But Doc was beyond caring about the slight to us. "You found something!"

"Morphine—there's not much. I would have gotten here sooner if the Seeker hadn't pinned me down out there."

Doc was instantly in action. We heard him rustling through something papery, and he crowed in delight. "Jared, you're the miracle man!"

"Doc, just a sec..."

But Doc was at our side already, his haggard face alight with anticipation. His hands were busy with a small syringe. He stuck the tiny needle into the crease at Walter's elbow, on the arm that was attached to us. We frowned. It seemed so horribly invasive to stab something through his skin.

But we couldn't argue with the results. Within half a minute, Walter's entire body relaxed, melting into a pile of loose flesh against the thin mattress. His breathing went from harsh and urgent to whispery and even. His hand relaxed, freeing ours.

We massaged our left hand with our right, trying to bring the blood back to our fingertips. Little prickles followed the flow of blood under our skin.

"Uh, Doc, there really isn't enough for that," Jared murmured.

We looked up from Walter's face, peaceful at last. Jared had his back to us, but we could see the surprise in Doc's expression.

"Enough for what? I'm not going to save this for a rainy day, Jared. I'm sure we'll wish we had it again, and too soon, but I'm not going to let Walter scream in agony while I have a way to help him!"

"That's not what I meant," Jared said. He spoke the way he did when he'd already thought about something long and hard. Slow and even, like Walter's breath.

Doc frowned, confused.

"There's enough to stop the pain for maybe three or four days, that's all," Jared said. "If you give it to him in doses."

We froze.

"Ah," Doc sighed. He turned to look at Walter again, and we saw a rim of fresh tears start to pool above his lower lids. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"You can't save him. You can only save him pain, Doc."

"I know," Doc said. His voice broke, like he was holding back a sob. "You're right."

“No,” we said.

Our voice was loud in the quiet room, even though it was really just a breath. We didn’t look up to see how the two men would react. Our own tears pooled as we leaned over Walter’s pillow.

“Not yet,” we whispered, because we knew: there was just enough morphine to kill our friend. “There must be something. Anything.”

But we knew there wasn’t. If the men said anything, we were too distracted to hear it.

 _It’s either this or die screaming_ , Mel said. Matter-of-fact—and I knew it, and I felt it, the practicality of it, the relief of it—but it _wounded_ us.

 _It’s so absolute_ , I whispered. _We’ll never see our friend again._

_How many of your other friends have you gone back to visit, Wanderer? It happens._

_It wasn’t death,_ I said. _I've never had friends like this before._

My friends on other planets were all blurred together in my head; the souls were so similar, almost interchangeable in some ways. Walter was distinctly himself. When he was gone, there would be no one who could fill his place. And yet our grief was hardened, a thing too cold to have us sob; Mel’s father, mother, family… we were too accustomed with loss.

We cradled Walter's head in our arms lowered our forehead to his, eyes closed. Tears slipped down our eyes, but we weren’t crying, not really.

"Wanda?" Doc asked.

We shook our head. We didn’t want to answer.

"I think you've been here too long," he said. We felt his hand, light and warm, on our shoulder. "You should take a break."

We shook our head again.

"You're worn out," he said. "Go clean up, stretch your legs. Eat something."

“You’ll kill him while we’re gone,” we said, not looking up at him.

He started at the tone of our voice—resigned, sure, like we hadn’t needed to think of it to know it was true.

“I wouldn’t,” he said, sad. If he had had any energy, maybe he would have been outraged, but not now. “He’s sleeping for now, there’s no… there’s no hurry. We’ll need… there are preparations to be made, either way.”

 _Holes to dig_ , we thought.

“If you want him here…” Doc continued.

“He’s a friend. We—I’d would want a chance to say goodbye. Not like this. A proper—proper one.”

He patted our arm. "I know, Wanda, I know. Me, too. I'm in no hurry. You get some air and then come back. Walter will be sleeping for a while."

We read his worn face. There was sincerity there.

We nodded and carefully put Walter's head back on the pillow. Maybe if we got away from this place for a little bit, we'd find a way to handle this. We wasn't sure how, but there were never any surety with death, were there?

We turned to look at Jared as we left, not even trying not to. We didn’t care about our slips—terrible things, and in front of him out of everyone to boot—or about his expression, his harsh words, his disbelief. We loved him, and for all that this love was encased in a swirl of layers of affection and attraction and resentment and confusion, it was still love.

He was staring at us. We had a feeling his eyes had been on us for a long time. His face was carefully composed, but there was surprise and suspicion in there again. It made us tired. What would be the point of acting out a charade now, even if we were that talented a liar? Walter would never stand up for us again. We couldn't sucker him anymore.

The thought almost made us smile.

We met Jared's gaze for one long second, then turned to hurry down the pitch-black corridor that was brighter than his expression.


	4. chapter 32: AMBUSHED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter I had been really looking forward to writing! I added a few to the count, I'm writing until the trial. I hope you guys like it! Any comments, tips, exclamations of horror? Drop a word :D

The caves were quiet; the sun had not yet risen. In the big plaza, the mirrors were a pale gray with the coming dawn.

The few clothes we had were still in Jamie and Jared's room. We snuck in, glad that we knew where Jared was.

Jamie was sound asleep, curled into a tight ball in the top corner of the mattress. He didn't usually sleep so compactly, but he had good reason to at the moment. Ian was sprawled across the rest of the space, his feet and hands hanging off the edges, one appendage to each of the four sides.

 _Starfish_ , I thought nonsensically.

For some reason, this was hysterical to me. We had to put our fist in our mouth to choke back the laughter as we quickly snatched up our old dirt-dyed T-shirt and shorts. We hurried into the hall, still stifling the giggles.

 _We're slaphappy_ , Melanie told me. _We need some sleep_.

 _We can sleep later. When…_ I couldn't finish the thought. It sobered us instantaneously, and everything was quiet again.

We were still rushing as we headed for the bathing room. We trusted Doc, but... Maybe he would change his mind. Maybe Jared would argue against what we wanted, since he apparently had had another change of heart out there. We couldn't be all day.

We thought we heard something behind us when we reached the octopus-like juncture where all the sleeping halls met. We looked back, but couldn't see anyone in the dim cave. People were beginning to stir. Soon it would be time for breakfast and another day of work. If they'd finished with the stalks, the ground in the east fields would need to be turned. Maybe we would have time to help... later...

We followed the familiar path to the underground rivers, our minds in a million other places. We couldn't seem to concentrate on anything in particular. Every time either of us tried to focus on a subject—Walter, Jared, breakfast, chores, baths—some other thought would pull our head away in seconds. Melanie was right; we needed to sleep. With both of us so groggy, we were twice as slow and tired.

We'd gotten used to the bathing room. The utter blackness of it didn't bother me anymore, as it had never really bothered Mel. So many places were black here. Half our daylight hours were lived in darkness now, and Mel had lived a much darker life before Jared had found them. And we'd been here too many times. There was never anything lurking under the water's surface, waiting to pull us under.

We didn’t have time to soak, though. Others would be up soon, and some people liked to start their day clean. We got to work, washing ourselves first, then moving on to our clothes. We scrubbed at our shirt fiercely, wishing we could scrub out our memory of the past two nights.

Ours hands were stinging when we were done, the dry cracks on our knuckles burning worst of all. We rinsed them in the water, but it made no noticeable difference. We sighed and climbed out to get dressed.

We'd left our dry clothes on the loose rocks in the back corner. I kicked a stone by accident, hard enough to hurt our bare foot, and it clattered loudly across the room, bouncing off the wall and landing with a plunk and a gurgle in the pool. The sound made us jump, though it wasn't all that loud next to the roar of the hot river in the outer room.

 _Careful_ , Mel said, half-annoyed.

We were just shoving our feet into our scruffy tennis shoes when our turn was up.

"Knock, knock," a familiar voice called from the dark entry.

"Morning, Ian," we said. "The bath is free now. Did you sleep well, stealing all Jamie’s bed like that?"

"Ian's still sleeping," Ian's voice answered. "I'm sure that won't last forever, though, so we'd best get on with this."

Splinters of ice pinned our joints in place. Our breath stuttered, then froze in our chest.

We'd noticed it before, and then forgotten it in the long weeks of Kyle's absence: not only did Ian and his brother look very much alike, but when Kyle spoke at a normal volume, which so rarely happened—they also had exactly the same voice.

We were trapped in this black hole with Kyle at the door. There was no way out. Terror rose like a tide and threatened to drown us—terror for us, for our lives, for Jamie and Ian who loved us and for Jared who would be glad that I would be gone—

Terror for the fact that behind the terror a terrible fury rose; that Melanie wasn’t frozen like me, and that we were going to hurt Kyle.

 _I don’t want to hurt him_ , I whispered, too afraid to speak up even in our minds. An old instinct was keeping our mouths shut; here it was dark as could be, and Kyle couldn’t see us.

 _I don’t want to die_ , Melanie snarled back.

We listened. We couldn’t hear anything. Was Kyle waiting for a response? Was he sneaking around the room in silence? The rush of the river covered all tiny sounds; if he were careful enough…

We bent down slowly, curling our legs but keeping our torso straight. Our hands searched the darkness and came up with a large, jagged rock and a handful of pebbles. The image was a fleeting thought, Melanie thinking up a plan: I saw us crashing a rough stone against Kyle’s head.

I wanted to moan in horror—but I was too much Melanie not to grip at the rock and scan the door for a vulture, too much human now to properly lock up in fear. In flight or fight, I would always pick flight. But I was an us, now, and our blood was singing for a fight.

A noise. A tiny splash as something entered the stream that drained the pool into the latrine room. Only a few yards away.

We swiveled around, still seeing nothing. Our breaths came shallowly, controlled. We started creeping away, close to the wall, toward the exit—Melanie protested, but she was too much me to fight running if the exit were free. She wasn’t stupid, either; she hadn’t survived by getting into fights where she had a big disadvantage.

 _We can take him_ , she growled.

 _We don’t know how we’ll fight together,_ I pointed out in a whisper. _And he’s taller and broad and twice our weight, and—_

_I get it!_

Another sound. Not by the far stream. A breath, by the exit. We froze where we were, straining our eyes and ears against the dark and the quiet. We couldn’t hear anything but the river.

 _What if he’s not alone?_ Melanie asked suddenly.

Our skin rose in goosebumps. What if there was someone waiting by the door to catch us when he herded us around the pool? How close was he now? But—we could run. We didn’t want to spook Kyle in the dark, but the door led _out_ , and if we managed to evade whoever else could be there and run…

There was some kind of pressure in the air, as though we could feel his silent movements. The door. We half turned, easing back in the direction we'd come, away from where we'd heard the breath.

He couldn't wait forever. The little he'd said told us he was in a hurry. Someone could come at any time. Odds were on his side, though. There were fewer who would be inclined to stop him than there were who might think this was for the best. And of those inclined to stop him, even fewer who'd have much of a chance of doing that. Only Jeb and his gun would make a difference. Jared was at least as strong as Kyle, but Kyle was more motivated.

Jared would probably not fight him now.

Another noise. Was that a footstep by the door? Or just imagination? How long had this silent standoff lasted? We couldn't guess how many seconds or minutes had passed.

Our muscles tensed. We were ready. We clenched the rock tighter.

I wanted to throw up.

We raised the hand with the pebbles and aimed them toward the back passage to the latrine. This trick wouldn’t work on anyone with more than a brain-cell, but Kyle was a brute and in a hurry, so maybe he would fall for it: we could make him think that we were going to hide and hope for rescue, and when he moved, we would know where he was.

We threw the handful of small stones and shied away from the noise when they clattered against the rock wall.

The breath at the door again, the sound of a light footfall headed toward the decoy.

 _Let’s try for the door_ , I pleaded.

Mel cursed.

We edged as quietly along the wall as we could. If there was someone outside, fuck it, at least there would be some light. We were almost to the exit. We just needed to make the tunnel, and we wouldn’t have to hurt anyone.

It was so tiring to swing between our wishes, our feelings; the violence and the horror, the fury and the fear, flight or fight bent around each other, making us feel dizzy.

We heard a footstep, very clearly this time, disrupting the stream in the back of the room. We crept faster.

A gigantic splash shattered the tense standoff. Water sprayed our skin, making us gasp. It spattered against the wall in a wave of wet sound.

He was coming through the pool.

We pelted towards the exit. Our feet slid on the water he had thrown on the ground by us, making us unbalanced, and it was enough: big fingers clutched at our calf, our ankle. We snarled and yanked against the pull, lurching forward. We feet slid again (brace!) and we felt forward and _down_ —our momentum made his fingers slip. He caught our sneaker. We kicked it off (if the world is fair it hit his _face—_ ) and scrambled forward.

Our knees were ripped by the rough stone, but we barely noticed. We knelt up—and Kyle clutched at our naked heel. We kicked back with as much strength as we could; Kyle grunted. We wrenched ourselves forward, pulling to our feet with our head still down, every second in danger of falling again because our body was moving almost parallel to the floor. We kept our balance through sheer force of will.

There was no one else. No one to catch us at the exit to the outer room. We sprinted forward, hope and adrenaline surging in our veins. We burst into the river room at full speed, our only thought to reach the tunnel. We could hear Kyle's heavy breath close behind but not close enough. With each step, we pushed harder against the ground, throwing ourselves ahead of him.

Pain lanced through our leg, crumpling it.

It twisted under us, spinning us backward to the ground, and in the same second he was on top of us. Our weight knocked our head against the rock in a ringing blow and pinned us flat against the floor. No leverage.

We screamed.

The air blew out of us in a siren of sound that surprised us all. Our wordless shriek was more than we'd hoped for—surely someone would hear it. _Please let that someone be Jeb. Please let him have the gun._ Under it, the babble of the river and the sound of two heavy stones—the one we’d been clutching and the one he’d thrown to wound us—hitting the ground went unheard.

"Uhng!" Kyle protested. His hand was big enough to cover most of our face. His palm mashed against our mouth, cutting off our scream.

Mel bit him—he rolled, the motion so sudden that we had no time to try and find an advantage in it, his hand wrenched from our teeth. He pulled us swiftly over and under and over his body. Our stomach rolled, both of us dizzy and confused… and then our face hit the water.

 _No_ , Mel said, horrified.

His hand locked on the back of our neck, forcing our face into the shallow stream of cooler water that wound its way into the bathing pool. It was too late to hold our breath. We'd already inhaled a mouthful of water.

I’d never been hurt on purpose before.

Our body panicked when the water hit our lungs. Its flailing was stronger than he'd expected. Our limbs all jerked and thrashed in different directions, and his grip on our neck slipped. Our hands were claws trying to rake at his face, at anything we could reach. We wanted to blind him, to _hurt_ him, to stop this. He tried to get a better hold, and Mel pulled us into him rather than away, as he was expecting. We only pulled half a foot closer to him, but that got our chin out of the stream, and enough of our mouth to choke some of the water back out and drag in a breath.

He fought to push us back into the stream, but we wriggled and wedged ourselves under him so that his own weight was working against his goal. We were still reacting to the water in our lungs, coughing and spasming out of control.

"Enough!" Kyle growled.

He pulled himself off us. We tensed and gripped at the floor, trying to drag ourselves away.

"Oh, no, you don't!" he spit through his teeth.

It was over, and we knew it.

There was something wrong with our injured leg. It felt numb, and wouldn’t move like we wanted it to. We could only push ourselves along the floor with our arms and our good leg. We were coughing too hard to do even that well. Too hard to scream again. My numb terror dumbed Mel’s reactions, our hands clumsy even as they tried to dig into him.

Kyle grabbed our wrist and yanked us up from the floor. The weight of our body made our leg buckle, but we refused to slump—we swung our body back, away, to the side—but he got both our wrists in one hand and wrapped the other arm around our waist, trapping us against him. The feel of his body all along our back was worse than scary; it was disgusting.

He pulled us off the floor and to his side, like an awkward bag of flour. We twisted and kicked, screaming as much as we could, our good leg kicking against the empty air.

"Let's get this over with."

He jumped over the smaller stream with a bound and carried us toward the closest sinkhole, wobbling as he walked because of our twisting. The steam from the hot spring washed our face.

He was going to throw us into the dark, hot hole and let the boiling water pull us into the ground as it burned us.

"No, no!" we shouted, our voice too hoarse and low to carry. My tears blurred our vision, slipping down my face, and Mel’s terrible fury hit a desperate crescendo. But even Mel had never fought a man like this, only Seekers with their weapons, souls who wouldn’t get blood in their hands.

We were going to die. Our mind was a chant of _no no no no_ , that I was going to die like _this_ , that Kyle was proving the souls right, that after everything Mel was going to burn into the ground without Jared ever believing us. We writhed frantically. Our knee knocked against one of the ropy rock columns, and we hooked our foot around it, trying to yank us out of his grip. He jerked us free with an impatient grunt.

At least that loosened his hold enough that we could make one more move. It had worked before, so we did it again: instead of trying to get free, we twisted in and wrapped our legs around his waist, locking the good ankle around the bad, trying to ignore the pain so that we could get a good hold there.

If Kyle was going to throw us into that black river, then _we were taking him with us._

"Get off me, you—" He fought to knock us loose, and we jerked one of our wrists free. We wrapped that arm around his neck and grabbed his thick hair.

Kyle hissed and stopped prying at our leg long enough to punch our side.

We gasped in pain but got our other hand into his hair. We snarled at his face, our face set in a scowl even as tears slipped down our cheeks.

He wrapped both arms around us, as if we were embracing rather than locked in a killing struggle. Then he grabbed our waist from both sides and heaved with all his strength against our hold.

His hair started to come out in our hands, but he just grunted and pulled harder.

We could hear the steaming water rushing close by, right below us, it seemed. The steam billowed up in a thick cloud, and for a minute we couldn't see anything but Kyle's face, twisted with rage into something beastlike and merciless.

We felt the bad leg giving. We tried to pull ourselves closer to him, but his brute strength was winning against our desperation. He would have us free in a moment, and we would fall into the hissing steam and disappear.

 _Jared! Jamie!_ The thought, the agony, echoed between us and doubled upon each other. They would never know what had happened to us. _Ian. Jeb. Doc. Walter. No goodbyes._

 _I’m sorry,_ I told Melanie, and for a moment my tears won against her anger, our face falling. _I’m sorry that it’s because of me, that he’s killing me and you’re here as collateral—_

Her answer was a mindless scream of frustration, of grief. Melanie didn’t want to die, but she didn’t want me to die, either.

Kyle abruptly jumped into the air and came down with a thud. The jarring impact had the effect he wanted: our legs came loose. We screamed again, but if our siren hadn’t called anyone yet, then it was no use now.

Before he could take advantage, there was another result.

The cracking sound was deafening. It felt like the whole cave was coming down. The floor shuddered beneath us.

Kyle gasped and jumped back, taking us—hands still locked in his hair—with him. The rock under his feet, with more cracking and groaning, began to crumble away.

Our combined weight had broken the brittle lip of the hole. As Kyle stumbled away, the crumbling followed his heavy steps. It was faster than he was.

A piece of the floor disappeared from under his heel, and he went down with a thud. Our weight pushed him back hard, and his head smacked sharply against a stone pillar. His arms fell away from us, limp.

The cracking of the floor settled into a sustained groan. We could feel it shiver beneath Kyle's body.

We were on his chest. Our legs dangled above empty space, the steam condensing into a million drops on our skin.

"Kyle?"

There was no answer.

We were afraid to move, but we had to. We were too heavy together. We freed our fingers from Kyle's hair and climbed gingerly over his unconscious form, using the pillar as an anchor to pull ourselves forward. It felt steady enough, but the floor still moaned under us.

We pulled ourselves past the pillar and onto the ground beyond it. This ground stayed firm under our hands and knees, but we scrambled farther away, toward the safety of the exit tunnel.

There was another crack, and we glanced back. One of Kyle's legs drooped farther down as a rock fell from beneath it. We heard the splash this time as the chunk of stone met the river below. The ground shuddered under his weight.

We were torn.

 _He’s going to fall_ , we said with horror, and then with vindication: _good._

We sat frozen with indecision. We couldn’t let him go. We _couldn’t._ To sit here and watch as he slipped down and away, as he drowned and burned into the ground, it was unbearable. Kyle had tried to kill us—he would try again if we let him go—but the thought of—

We shuddered. We couldn’t even think it.

 _The exit is so close_ , Melanie said plaintively, though she kept our eyes on Kyle, lying there.

We wanted to live.

Kyle could disappear. And if he did, there was a chance that no one would ever hurt us again. At least not among the people here. There was still the Seeker to consider, but maybe she would give up someday, and then we could stay here indefinitely with the humans we loved...

Our leg throbbed, pain replacing some of the numbness. Warm fluid trickled down our lips. We tasted the moisture without thinking and realized it was blood.

 _Let’s live_.

We didn’t know who had said it.

We could feel the tremors from where we stood. Another piece of floor splashed into the river. Kyle's weight shifted, and he slid an inch toward the hole.

_Let’s let him go. He brought this upon himself._

We stared at the face of the man who was about to die—the man who wanted us dead. With him unconscious, Kyle's face was no longer that of an angry animal. It was relaxed, almost peaceful.

The resemblance to his brother was very apparent.

 _Shit_ , Melanie said.

It was the thought of Ian that did it. Not the thought that Kyle looked like him, but the thought that despite Ian’s harsh words, Kyle was his brother. He was his brother like Jamie was ours, and the thought of—

We were crawling towards him before we realized it, on our hands and knees and feeling the ground with care before each inch we moved. We were too afraid to go beyond the pillar, so we hooked our good leg around it, an anchor again, and leaned around to wedge our hands under Kyle’s arms and over his chest.

We heaved so hard we nearly pulled our arms from their sockets, but he didn't move. We heard a sound like the trickle of sand through an hourglass as the floor continued to dissolve into tiny pieces.

We yanked again, but the only result was that the trickle sped up. Shifting his weight was breaking the floor faster.

Just as we thought that, a large chunk of rock plummeted into the river, and Kyle's precarious balance was overthrown. He began to fall.

"No!" we screamed, the siren bursting from my throat again. We flattened ourselves against the column and managed to pin him to the other side, locking our hands around his wide chest. Our arms ached.

"Help!" I screamed. "Somebody! Help!"


	5. chapter 33: DOUBTED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was SO FUN to write. I hope you guys like it as much as I did! Again, unbeata-ed, unedited, I will probably go back to the begining and polish everything once I'm done with it all.

Another splash. Kyle's weight tortured our arms.

"Wanda? Wanda!"

"Help! Kyle! The floor! Help!"

We had our face pressed against the stone, our eyes toward the cave entrance. The light was bright overhead as the day dawned. We held our breath. Our arms screamed. Thank god for all that heavy work on the gardens, or else…

"Wanda! Where are you?"

Ian leaped through the door, the rifle in his hands, held low and ready. His face was the angry mask his brother had worn.

"Watch out!" we screamed at him. "The floor is breaking up! I can't hold him much longer!"

It took him two long seconds to process the scene that was so different from the one he'd been expecting—Kyle, trying to kill us. The scene that had been, just seconds ago.

Then he threw the gun to the cave floor and started toward us with a long stride.

"Get down—disperse your weight!"

He dropped to all fours and scuttled to us, his eyes burning in the light of dawn.

"Don't let go," he cautioned.

We groaned in pain.

He assessed for another second, and then slid his body behind ours, pushing us closer to the rock. We winced at his weight on top of us. His arms were longer than ours. Even with us in the way, he was able to get his hands around his brother.

"One, two, three," he grunted.

He pulled Kyle up against the rock, much more securely than we had had him. The movement smashed our face into the pillar. The bad side, though it couldn't get much more scarred at this point. It was a sad, wounded thought.

"I'm going to pull him to this side. Can you squeeze out?"

"I'll try."

We loosened our hold on Kyle, feeling our shoulders ache in relief, making sure Ian had him. Then we wriggled out from between Ian and the rock, careful not to put ourselves on a dangerous section of the floor. We crawled backward a few feet toward the door, ready to make a grab for Ian if he started slipping.

Ian hauled his inert brother around one side of the pillar, dragging him in jerks, a foot at a time. More of the floor crumbled, but the foundation of the pillar remained intact. A new shelf formed about two feet out from the column of rock.

Ian crawled backward the way we had, dragging his brother along in short surges of muscle and will. Within a minute, we were all in the mouth of the corridor, we and Ian breathing in gasps.

"What... the hell... happened?"

"Our weight... was too... much. Floor caved in."

"What were you doing... by the edge? With Kyle?"

We put our head down and concentrated on breathing.

 _Well_ , Mel said.

 _Well_ , I said.

“Wanda?”

We were too distracted to listen.

 _Kyle broke the rules_ , Mel continued quietly. _Job will shoot him, or they will kick him out. Maybe Ian will beat the snot out of him first. That would be fun to watch._

I winced.

 _It wouldn’t_ , I said, and we grew quiet for a moment. I continued: _I don’t want him to die._

_Maybe they’ll just kick him out._

_That’s a death sentence_ , I argued. _What if he’s caught? What if he leads them here? It doesn’t… it doesn’t make sense. He’s one of you._

 _Christ, shut the fuck up_ , Mel said, tired. _He’s tried to kill us, Wanderer. He’s tried to kill_ me.

It wasn’t fair of her to pull at my heartstrings like that—she knew I cared much more about Kyle hurting her than hurting me. But I also knew that she was arguing for arguing’s sake; she didn’t want Kyle dead either. Kyle _was_ a person—and odious, but still one of the last humans in the world.

If only there were a way to keep him safe and never have to even think about him again.

Ian’s hand on our face snapped out of our thoughts. We looked at him—he looked worried, his blue eyes searching our face.

“Wanda? I’ve been calling you—are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” we said automatically, voice low. We shook our heads, dislodging his touch. “It’s nothing. Nothing happened.”

"You're a rotten liar,” he said tiredly. “You know that, right?"

“ _I’m_ not a rotten liar,” Mel complained.

"What did he do?"

We stared down at Kyle. He was still unconscious, and we knew that did _not_ mean anything good for his health.

 _Maybe he’ll just die like this_.

Ian put his hand under our chin, pulled our face up. "Your nose is bleeding." He twisted our head to the side. "And there's more blood in your hair."

 _What are we going to do?_ I asked, quietly desperate. There _had_ to be a way.

We looked back at Ian, who was so close to us. He looked so worried, so quietly furious. Ian who believed us, Ian who would gladly shoot his brother for hurting us. Ian who had tried to kill us, too.

“We don’t want Jeb to shoot him,” Mel said firmly.

Ian blinked at us, surprised. Mel straightened our spine, stared back at him with no hesitancy, no fear. Ian wasn’t used to us not cowering.

“Melanie?” he asked.

“We don’t want Jeb to shoot him,” she repeated. “Do you understand, Ian? We’re not going to the authorities, we’re not pressing charges. We do not want him to die for this. Do you understand?”

He stared at us.

“I… I don’t understand,” he admitted. “You’re—I thought _you’d_ be all for kicking him out.”

We shook our head.

"We should get Kyle to Doc—he really cracked his head when he went down," we said, quieter.

Ian glared at us for a long moment. The darkness of the tunnel muted the brilliance of his eyes.

"Why are you two protecting him? He tried to kill you." It was a statement of fact, not a question. His expression slowly melted from anger to horror. He was imagining what we had been doing on that unstable shelf—we could see that in his eyes. When we shrugged, he spoke again in a whisper. "He was going to throw you in the river..." A strange tremor shook his body.

Ian had one arm around Kyle—he'd collapsed that way and seemed too tired to move. Now he shoved his unconscious brother away roughly, sliding farther from him in disgust. He slid into us and wrapped his arms around our shoulders. He pulled us close against his chest—we could feel his breath go in and out, still more ragged than normal.

It felt very strange, but we shivered and didn’t want him to move away. After all of this—we didn’t know what we would do if he moved away.

"I should roll him right back in there and kick him over the edge myself."

Mel sighed.

"Saves time,” he continued. “Jeb made the rules clear. You try to hurt someone here, there are penalties. There'll be a tribunal. You can’t just say that you won’t press charges. That’s not how it works."

"He's your brother,” we said sharply. “We saved him for that, you fucking moron.”

“Mel?”

“This is his home,” we argued. “He’s one of the last humans around. You can’t do this.”

“Wanda, by my definition, you’re more human than him, and he definitely doesn’t belong here. This isn’t his home anymore, not after this.”

“Stop trying to figure out which one of us is talking,” we said, annoyed, elbowing him until he took his arm away from us. “We’re the affected party and we don’t want him punished!”

“This is Jeb’s house,” Ian said, crossing his arms. “He makes the rules, he makes the decisions. You think he’s going to let this slide? You’re his friend, Wanda, and you’re his _niece_ , Mel.”

We winced, both because it was true and because of the effect of his words on us. Wasn’t I his niece? Wasn’t Mel his friend? Why was everything so fucking complicated?

“You have to side with us,” we said, grabbing at his shirt. “You have to help us!”

“I’m not helping him,” he said with disgust. “If you saved him because he’s my brother, then I’m telling you I’m _ashamed_ of that. I’d rather never see him again!”

“We crossed the desert and nearly died to find _our_ brother,” we snarled, suddenly furious. Our emotions were all over the place, spilling everywhere, too rattled after _everything._ “Now you want to throw yours out there?”

“He was going to _drown you in a burning river!_ He tried to kill you!”

“ _You tried to kill us!_ ”

Ian recoiled from us as if slapped.

We stared at each other, us breathing hard and him with his eyes wide as saucers.

“I—“ he tried, and couldn’t continue.

“We forgive you,” we said, but that wasn’t completely true, “we _don’t_ , we hate you, I understand, we forgive you, you still _did it_ , it hurt, do you think drowning is so bad but asphyxiation is just fine? You have his _face._ He has your _face._ What am I supposed to do, Ian? Is his crime so much worse than yours just because he did it later, and you’re our friend now? Do you understand it makes no difference? Jeb has a rule now, he didn’t when you hurt us, but—do you see that it makes no difference to us?”

“I’m not like him,” Ian said, horrified. “I’m _not_ —”

“You were forced to tolerate us,” we said, covering our face with our hands. “You _had_ to, you were _forced_ , and eventually you—mellowed out, and we were forced too. Do you understand, Ian? We love you but we never wanted to see you again. We’d never been hurt so much _on purpose._ On purpose you hurt us. You hurt—Wanderer, Wanderer had never had anyone put their hands on us, and then _you_ —why is it you were allowed to live after that and he isn’t?”

“Wanda, what’s happening to you?” he breathed out, hands reaching for us. There was panic in his face. “How hard did you hit your head? Why are you speaking like _that?_ ”

We stared at him, loopy and terrified and furious and so drained we were swaying where we sat.

“It’s so complicated,” we whispered, “you have no idea, Ian, it’s so complicated being two people at once.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, gripping our shoulders. “You need Doc, you need help—”

We pushed away from him away. He let us go easily—though it might have had something to do with the moan of pain that escaped us when we moved our leg.

“Shit,” he said, conversation, doubts, and any coherent thought forgotten as he remembered our condition again. “Where else are you hurt?”

“Leg,” we said tiredly.

A growl strangled in his throat. "Which leg? Let me see."

We tried to straighten out our hurt leg—it was the right one—and groaned again. His hands started at our ankle, testing the bones, the joints. He rotated our ankle carefully.

"Higher. Here." We pulled his hand to the back of our thigh, just above the knee. We groaned in pain when he pressed the sore place.

"Deep muscle bruise, at least," he muttered. “Let’s… let’s just get you to Doc.”

“And Kyle?” we asked quietly.

“I can't carry Kyle that far, but I can certainly carry you. Hold on. I mean… Uh. Can I pick you up?"

We smiled. We couldn’t not, after he remembered to ask like we told him we wanted him to do.

“Alright.”

He smiled back, tired. “Wait a second.”

He turned abruptly and ducked back into the river room. We breathed carefully and didn’t think about being alone with Kyle again. We wanted to see Walter before... Doc had promised to wait, but who knew? Would that first dose of painkiller wear off soon? Our head swam. There was so much to worry about. The adrenaline was leaving us, and we were going to crash really, really soon.

Ian came back with the gun. “Let's go." Without thinking, he handed the gun to us. We held onto it awkwardly, not wanting to hold it and not really knowing how to, either. Ian smiled again, amused and sad.

He picked us up easily and was moving before we were settled. We tried to keep the tenderest parts—the back of our head, the back of our leg—from resting on him too hard.

"How'd your clothes get so wet?" he asked. We were passing under one of the fist-sized skylights, and I could see the hint of a grim look on his face. “I mean… did he actually manage to do anything?”

We remembered our lungs filling with water and trembled.

“Yeah,” we murmured.

His grip on us tightened. We passed into darkness again.

"You're missing a shoe."

"We kicked it at his face," we said, satisfied.

We passed through another beam of light, and his eyes flashed sapphire. They were serious now, locked on my face.

"I'm... very glad that you weren't hurt, Wanda. Hurt worse, I should say. I mean—both of you."

“Me too,” we said quietly. I continued: “Do you think he would have spared us, if he believed us? That Mel is still here? Or would he still have killed her as collateral?”

Ian was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice sounded small.

“I don’t know.”

Jeb found us just before we hit the big cave. There was enough light for us to see the sharp glint of curiosity in his eyes when he saw us in Ian's arms, face bleeding, the gun resting gingerly on our hands.

"You were right, then," Jeb guessed. The curiosity was strong, but the steel in his tone was stronger. His jaw was tight beneath the fan of his beard. "I didn't hear a shot. Kyle?"

"He's unconscious," we said. "You need to warn everyone—part of the floor collapsed in the river room. It doesn’t _look_ very stable. Kyle hit his head really hard, he’s been unconscious for too long. Can someone go get Doc?"

Jeb stroked his beard, pensive. “I should just save him the trouble and leave him there.”

We would have scowled if we had had any strength.

“Shut the fuck up and go get the man, Uncle Jeb,” we said tiredly.

His eyes narrowed, his face turning even more thoughtful—but there was a smile on his lips.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a sigh. “Give me that,” he said, and took the gun from us, “and I'll get Andy and Brandt to help me with Kyle. We'll follow behind you."

"Keep a close eye on him when he wakes up," Ian said in a hard tone.

"Can do."

Jeb slouched off, looking for more hands. Ian hurried toward the hospital cave. The long tunnel felt longer than usual. Was Kyle dying, despite our stupid efforts? Was he conscious again and looking for us? What about Walter? Was he sleeping... or gone? Had the Seeker given up her hunt, or would she be back now that it was light again? Would Jared still be with Doc?

Would he still be angry?

When we reached the sunlit southern cave, Jared and Doc didn't look like they'd moved much. They leaned, side by side, against Doc's makeshift desk. It was quiet as we approached. They weren't talking, just watching Walter sleep.

They started up with wide eyes as Ian carried us into the light and laid us on the cot next to Walter's. He straightened our right leg carefully.

Walter was snoring. That sound eased some of our tension. Alive, still.

"What now?" Doc demanded angrily. He was bending over us as soon as the words were out, wiping at the blood on our cheek.

Jared's face was frozen in surprise. He was being careful, not letting the expression give way to anything else.

“Kyle," we and Ian answered at the same time, him in a hard tone and us in a tired one.

We didn’t elaborate, but we didn’t need to. Doc looked resigned and horrified at the same time, while Jared’s hands closed in fists.

“We don’t want him punished,” we said, knowing how hard it would be to convince the two of it.

“He tried to kill you Wanda,” Doc said. “He can’t just—”

“Jeb has rules,” Jared said, though he wasn’t looking at us.

“Then he didn’t try to kill us,” we corrected, closing our eyes. “The floor crumbled, we both fell and got hurt. Oops.”

“That’s obviously a lie,” Ian said. “You _just_ said—”

“We hit our head and were confused. Actually nothing happened. It’s our word against yours and we’re the ones it happened to, so what are you going to say? You know people will side with him, either way. Can we just get some fucking sleep?”

Jared’s face contorted in agony, but right then and there we didn’t care. Let us cause him agony; he had caused it on us enough times already.

“Jeb has a _rule_ ,” he repeated firmly.

“Not _everyone_ will side with him,” Ian argued, setting a hand on our arm.

“Let’s shelf this,” Doc said loudly, setting his hand on our other arm. “Wanda, where are you hurt?”

We waved a tired hand, then looked at Ian.

“The back of her head is bashed pretty good,” he said promptly. He started listing. “Her nose is bleeding but not broken, I don't think. She's got some damage to the muscle here." He touched our sore thigh. "Knees sliced up pretty good, got her face again, but I think maybe I did that, trying to pull Kyle out of the hole. Shouldn't have bothered." Ian muttered the last part.

"Anything else?" Doc asked. At that moment, his fingers, probing along our side, reached the place where Kyle had punched us. We gasped.

Doc tugged our shirt up, and both Ian and Jared hissed at what they saw.

"What did he do?" Ian asked in a voice like ice.

"That man has a punch like a goddamn rock," we said, breathless. Doc was still touching our side, and we were trying to hold back whimpers.

"Might have broken a rib, not sure," Doc murmured. "I wish I could give you something for the pain—"

"Don't worry about that, Doc, our body never agreed with meds anyway," we panted. "What about Walter? Did he wake up at all?"

Doc frowned. “Our body?”

We winced, then shrugged.

“It will take some time to sleep that dose off," he said after a few moments. He took our hand and started bending our wrist, our elbow. “Walter, that is. You'll just have to rest for a while, Wanda,” he said, eyes soft. “I'll keep an eye on you. Here, turn your head."

We did as he asked, and then winced while he examined our wound.

"Not here," Ian muttered.

We couldn't see Doc, but Jared threw Ian a sharp look.

"They're bringing Kyle. I'm not having them in the same room."

Doc nodded. "Probably wise."

"I'll get a place ready for them. I'll need you to keep Kyle here until... until we decide what to do with him."

"All right," Doc agreed. "I'll tie him down, if you want."

"If we have to. Is it okay to move h—them?" Ian glanced toward the tunnel, his face anxious.

Doc hesitated.

"No," we whispered. "Walter."

"You've saved all the lives you can save today,” Ian said, his voice gentle and sad. “Mel, reason with her.”

We smiled. “He was my friend too, Ian. Even if he didn’t know I was there. We want to… to say good-bye.”

Ian nodded with a sigh. Then he looked at Jared. "Can I trust you?"

Jared's face was flushed—with anger and despair, and so many things we couldn’t name. He was staring at us, hands closed in fists, and when Ian spoke, Jared looked up at him with eyes filled with a burning hatred. Ian held up his hand.

"I don't want to leave them here unprotected while I find them a safe place," Ian said. "I don't know if Kyle will be conscious when he arrives, but you and Doc should be able to handle him. I don't want Doc to be on his own, and force Jeb's hand. They don’t want him to shoot him."

Jared spoke through clenched teeth. “Stop doing that.”

“You’re either blind or stupid,” Ian said dryly. “ _Can I trust you with them?_ ”

“He’s not going to hurt us,” we said quietly.

Jared hesitated, then looked away and nodded.

“I'll be here," Doc reminded Ian.

Ian met his gaze. "Okay." He leaned over us, and his luminous eyes held ours. "I'll be back soon. Don't be afraid."

We smiled at him.

He ducked in and touched his lips to our forehead.

No one was more surprised than I, though we heard Jared gasp quietly. Our mouth hung open as Ian wheeled and nearly sprinted from the room. I raised our arm and touched the place he had kissed, though Mel had us scowling.

 _Ass_ , she thought.

Doc pulled a breath in through his teeth, like a backward whistle. "Well," he said.

They both stared at us for a long moment. We were so tired and sore, we barely cared what they were thinking.

"Doc—" Jared started to say something in an urgent tone, but a clamor from the tunnel interrupted him.

Five men struggled through the opening. Jeb, in front, had Kyle's left leg in his arms. Wes had the right leg, and behind them, Andy and Aaron worked to support his torso. Kyle's head lolled back over Andy's shoulder. We tensed, our breath catching in our throat, and tried to relax again. Kyle wasn’t going to hurt us. Jared wasn’t going to let him.

Jared had hurt us, too.

"Stars, but he's heavy," Jeb grunted.

Jared and Doc sprang forward to help. After a few minutes of cursing and groaning, Kyle was lying on a cot a few feet away from ours.

"How long has he been out, Wanda?" Doc asked. He pulled Kyle's eyelids back, letting the sunlight shine into his pupils.

"Uh… As long as we've been here, the ten minutes or so it took Ian to carry us here, and then maybe five more minutes before that?"

"At least twenty minutes, would you say?"

"Yeah, close to that."

While we were consulting, Jeb had made his own diagnosis. No one paid any attention as he came to stand at the head of Kyle's cot. No one paid any attention—until he turned an open bottle of water over Kyle's face.

"Jeb," Doc complained, knocking his hand away.

But Kyle sputtered and blinked, and then moaned. "What happened? Where did it go?" He started to shift his weight, trying to look around. "The floor... is moving..."

Kyle's voice had our fingers clenching the sides of our cot and panic washing through us. Our leg ached. Could we limp away? We could fucking crawl away if we had to.

"'S okay," someone murmured. Not someone. We would always know that voice.

Jared moved to stand between our cot and Kyle's, his back to us, his eyes on the big man. Kyle rolled his head back and forth, groaning.

"You're safe," Jared said in a low voice. He didn't look at us.

We took a deep breath. We wanted to touch him. His hand was close to ours, resting on the edge of the cot. We almost reached out with just a finger, just to touch him lightly, just our fingertip, but what if he hurt us again?

"Aw, hell!" Kyle grumbled. Our gaze flickered toward him at the sound of his voice. We could just see his bright eyes around Jared's elbow, focused on us. "It didn't fall!" he complained.


	6. chapter 34: BURIED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another time Fran adds another chapter to the chapter count. Hope you guys like this one! I tried to address some stuff that Really, Really bothers me in canon.

Jared lunged forward and punched Kyle in the face.

Kyle's eyes rolled back in his head, and his mouth fell slack.

The room was very quiet for a few seconds.

"Um," Doc said in a mild voice, "medically speaking, I'm not sure that was the most helpful thing for his condition."

"But I feel better," Jared answered, sullen.

Doc smiled the tiniest smile. "Well, maybe a few more minutes of unconsciousness won't kill him."

Doc began looking under Kyle's lids again, taking his pulse...

"What happened?" Wes was by our head, speaking in a murmur.

"Kyle tried to kill it," Jared answered before we could. "Are we really surprised?"

"Are you trying to be annoying?" we demanded. Our patience was fucking gone, especially when it came to Jared being an asshole. How long had it been since we had slept? The only thing that ached worse than our leg was our head. Every breath hurt our side. We realized, suddenly and with startling clarity, the immensity of our fucking _bad mood_. “Christ, Jared, why don’t you shut up?”

Jared and Wes looked at us with shocked eyes. If we could see the others, their expressions would probably match. Maybe not Jeb's. He was the master of the poker face.

“The _it_ thing is going to get you punched in the face one day,” we told him honestly, scowling up at him. “Is saying _she_ so goddamn hard?”

“You’re only a _she_ because of the body you’re _wearing_ ,” Jared said icily, his face settled back into harder lines.

Wes glared at him.

"Because of _me_ ," I hissed.

"By whose definition?"

"How about by yours, if you want to be so backwards?” we said, and I continued: “In my species, I am the one that bears young. Is that not _female_ enough for you?"

That stopped him short. We felt smug. That would teach him being such a pig about this.

"That's a story you've never told us," Wes murmured, while Jared struggled for a rebuttal. "How does that work?" His olive-toned face darkened, as if he'd just realized he had spoken the words out loud. "I mean, I guess you don't have to answer that, if I'm being rude."

We laughed. "No, you're not asking anything... inappropriate. We don't have such a complicated... elaborate setup as your species." We laughed again, and then felt warmth in my face. I remembered only too clearly how elaborate it could be.

_Get your mind out of the gutter._

_It's your mind too,_ I reminded her.

"Then...?" Wes asked.

We sighed. "There are only a few of us who are... Mothers. Not Mothers. That's what they call us, but it's just the potential to be one..." We were sober again, thinking of it. There were no Mothers, no surviving Mothers, only the memories of them.

"You have that potential?" Jared asked stiffly.

We knew the others were listening. Even Doc had paused in the act of putting his ear to Kyle's chest.

We didn't answer his question. "Souls are a little like your hives of bees, or your ants. Many, many sexless members of the family, and then the queen..."

"Queen?" Wes repeated, looking at us with a strange expression.

"Not like that. But there is only one Mother for every five, ten thousand of my kind. Sometimes less. There's no hard-and-fast rule."

"How many drones?" Wes wondered.

"Oh, no—there aren't drones. No, I told you, it's simpler than that."

They waited for us to explain. We swallowed. I shouldn't have brought this up. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Was it really such a big thing to have Jared call us "it"?

_Yes_ , Mel said firmly.

They still waited. We frowned, but then we spoke. "The Mothers... divide. Every... cell, sort of, though the structure isn't the same as an human’s, becomes a new soul. Each new soul has a little of the Mother's memory, a piece of her that remains."

"How many cells?" Doc asked, curious. "How many young?"

We shrugged. "A million or so."

The eyes that we could see widened, looked a little wilder. I tried not to feel hurt when Wes cringed away from us.

Doc whistled under his breath. He was the only one who was still interested in continuing. Aaron and Andy had wary, disturbed expressions on their faces. They'd never heard me teach before. Never heard me speak so much.

"When does that happen? Is there a catalyst?" Doc asked.

"It's a choice. A voluntary choice," we told him. "It's the only way we ever willingly choose to die. A trade, for a new generation."

"You could choose now, to divide all your cells, just like that?"

"Not quite just like that, but yes."

"Is it complicated?"

"The decision is. The process is... painful."

"Painful?"

Why should that have surprised him so? It was the same for humans.

_Men._ Mel snorted.

"Excruciating," I told him. "We all remember how it was for our Mothers."

Doc was stroking his chin, entranced. "I wonder what the evolutionary track would be... to produce a hive society with suiciding queens..." He was lost on another plane of thought.

"Altruism," Wes murmured.

"Hmm," Doc said. "Yes, that."

We closed my eyes, wishing our mouth had stayed closed. We felt dizzy. Were we just tired or was it our head wound?

"Oh," Doc muttered. "You've slept even less than I have, haven't you, Wanda? We should let you get some rest."

“’s fine," we mumbled, but we didn't open our eyes.

"That's just great," someone said under his breath. "We've got a bloody queen mother alien living with us. She could blow into a million new buggers at any moment."

"Shh."

"They couldn't hurt you," we told whoever it was, not opening our eyes. "Without host bodies, they would die quickly." We winced, imagining the unimaginable grief. A million tiny, helpless souls, tiny silver babies, withering...

No one answered, but we could feel their relief in the air.

We were so tired. We didn't care that Kyle was three feet from us. We didn't care that two of the men in the room would side with Kyle if he came around. We didn't care about a single goddamn thing but sleep.

Of course, that was when Walter woke up.

"Uuuh," he groaned, just a whisper. "Gladdie?"

With a groan of our own, we rolled toward him. The pain in our leg made us wince, but we couldn't twist our torso. We reached out to him, found his hand.

"Here," we whispered.

"Ahh," Walter sighed in relief.

Doc hushed the men who began to protest. "Wanda's given up sleep and peace to help him through the pain. Her hands are bruised from holding his. What have you done for him?"

Walter groaned again. The sound began low and guttural but turned quickly to a high-pitched whimper.

Doc winced. "Aaron, Andy, Wes... would you, ah, go get Sharon for me, please?"

"All of us?"

"Get out," Jeb translated.

The only answer was a shuffling of feet as they left.

"Wanda," Doc whispered, close beside our ear. "He's in pain. I can't let him come all the way around."

We tried to breathe evenly. "It's better if he doesn't know us. It's better if he thinks Gladdie is here."

We pulled our eyes open. Jeb was beside Walter, whose face still looked as if he slept.

"Bye, Walt," Jeb said. "See you on the other side."

He stepped back.

"You're a good man. You'll be missed," Jared murmured.

Doc was fumbling in the package of morphine again. The paper crackled.

"Gladdie?" Walt sobbed. "It hurts."

"It’s okay, Walt,” we whispered. “It won't hurt much longer. Doc will make it stop."

"Gladdie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, Gladdie. I've loved you my whole life long."

We looked down at him. He was just an old man; the first friend I lost, the first goodbye Mel got.

“We know, Walter. We love you. We love you too."

Walter sighed.

We didn’t close our eyes as Doc leaned over Walter with the syringe.

"Sleep well, friend," Doc murmured.

Walter's fingers relaxed, loosened. We held on to them—we were the ones clinging now.

The minutes passed, and all was quiet except our breathing. It was hitching and breaking, but we wouldn’t cry. My misery was dampened by exhaustion, and Melanie’s muted grief was too encompassing to make us cry.

Someone patted our shoulder. "He's gone, Wanda," Doc said, his voice thick. "He's out of pain."

He pulled our hand free and rolled us carefully out of our awkward position into one that was less agonizing. But only slightly so. We looked at Walter, clutching our wounded side, which was hurting more and more with our hitching breaths.

"Oh, go ahead, you’ll just do it once O’Shea comes back anyway," Jared muttered in a grudging tone.

Doc smiled at us, sad and quiet, and touched the syringe to our arm.

We vaulted from the bed with a scream lodged in our throat. We crashed to the floor, obviously; our leg was useless and adrenaline had left us, leaving us feeling every single wound we had. Doc yelped in alarm and Jared lunged towards us, catching our arm and stopping us from slamming our head against the rock wall behind us.

“No!” we tried to shout—but of course we couldn’t do it properly, still feeling the water we had swallowed.

“Wait!” Jared shouted, an incomprehensible expression on his face.

“Aw, girl,” Uncle Jeb said, sad.

“Oh, God,” Doc said, horrified.

“We didn’t do anything,” I sobbed, not understanding. Why were they turning the morphine on us? Weren’t they trying to punish Kyle for hurting us? Why would they go ahead and kill us now?

Then understanding crashed into us, and Mel’s fury boiled.

“Are you out of your _fucking mind, Doc?_ ” she screamed, digging our fingers into Jared’s arm and dragging ourselves up. She shoved him away and he went easily, too confused, and we stumbled until we had our backs to the wall. “Did we ask for morphine? Did we fucking give our consent? _Jared makes no fucking decision regarding us,_ do you understand?”

“I—” he tried, alarmed. “I didn’t—”

“ _No one touches us_ ,” we hissed. “No one carry us, no one _move us_ , no one _drag us_ , no one _give us anything_ without us saying so! This is fucking—why is this so fucking hard? If you’re going to _force us_ , then stop pretending to be our _friends!_ ”

“ _What on Earth is going on?_ ”

Ian ran into the room already shouting, his hands closed in fists and his eyes wide. Ian who had asked; who had listened.

“ _Ian_ ,” we said, lifting our arms.

He didn’t hesitate. He dashed to our side and caught us in his arms, and we sagged against his side. Ian wouldn’t let anyone get close.

“Wait a second,” Jared started, taking a step closer.

Jeb shook his head sharply and Jared froze, his eyes dark.

“Wanda, we just wanted to make you comfortable,” Jeb explained, voice low. “No one’s giving you morphine if you don’t want to. Doc is putting the syringe away, look at that. He was tryin’ to be kind, girls. Alright? You can rest now.”

We breathed harshly, clutching at Ian.

“They didn’t ask,” Ian realized.

“No,” we said, out of breath, closing our eyes and resting our forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Doc said, miserable.

There was silence.

We knew Doc had been trying to be kind. We knew that Jared had caught us and helped us up. We knew Jeb had calmed us down. We still _didn’t want to be there._

“We can’t walk,” we said tonelessly. “Ian, just take us away.”

“Alright,” he said. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” we said, tears springing up to our eyes.

He picked us up and carried us out, and we fell asleep while he was still walking.

We woke hours later with a hand shaking us away. We blinked our eyes blearily open, and sighed in relief when Jamie’s face swam into view. He smiled a wobbly smile and settled onto our side, our head under his chin.

“They won’t let you come to the funeral unless they put you under,” he whispered.

“Alright,” we said, exhausted.

When we next opened our eyes, the ceiling above us was dim, starlit. Nighttime. There were so many stars. Where were we? There were no black obstructions, no pieces of ceiling in our view. Just stars and stars and stars...

Wind fanned our face. It smelled like... dust and... something we couldn't put my finger on. An absence. The musty smell was gone. No sulfur, and it was so dry.

"Wanda?" someone whispered, touching our good cheek.

Our eyes found Ian's face, white in the starlight, leaning over us. His hand on our skin was cooler than the breeze, but the air was so dry it wasn't uncomfortable. Where _were_ we?

"Wanda? Are you awake? They won't wait any longer."

We whispered because he did. "What?"

"They're starting already.”

“She comin' around?" Jeb's voice asked.

“Oh,” we said.

"Walter's funeral,” Ian whispered.

We tried to sit up, but our body was all rubbery. Ian smiled sardonically and helped us. We looked up.

We were outside.

_Outside._

On our left, a rough, tumbled pile of boulders formed a miniature mountain, complete with scrubby brush. On our right, the desert plain stretched away from us, disappearing in the darkness. We looked down past our feet, and we could see the huddle of humans, ill at ease in the open air. We knew just how they felt. Exposed.

We tried to get up again. We wanted to be closer, to see. Ian set a hand on our arm, stopping us.

"Easy there," he said. "Don't try to stand."

"Help us," we said.

"Wanda?"

We heard Jamie's voice, and then we saw him, his hair bobbing as he ran to where we were lying.

"They didn't wait," Jamie said to Ian. "It will be over soon."

"Help me up," we said.

Jamie reached for our hand, but Ian shook his head. "I got her. She can’t really stand right now."

Ian slid his arms under us, very careful to avoid the worst of the sore spots. He pulled us up off the ground, and our head spun like a ship about to capsize. We groaned.

“Fuck morphine,” we muttered.

He patted what he could reach of us. “I know you’re, uh, angry right now, but we have to get to Doc again later. He couldn’t really check you out before we left.”

We shrugged.

We could hear a low voice in the distance. We turned our head.

We could see the group of humans again. They stood at the mouth of a low, dark, open space carved out by the wind under the unstable-looking pile of boulders. They stood in a ragged line, facing the shadowed grotto.

We recognized Trudy's voice.

"Walter always saw the bright side of things. He could see the bright side of a black hole. I'll miss that."

A figure stepped forward, a gray-and-black braid swing as she moved, and we watched Trudy toss a handful of something into the darkness. Sand scattered from her fingers, falling to the ground with a faint hiss.

She went back to stand beside her husband. Geoffrey moved away from her, stepped forward toward the black space.

"He'll find his Gladys now. He's happier where he is." Geoffrey threw his handful of dirt.

Ian carried us to the right side of the line of people, close enough to see into the murky grotto. There was a darker space on the ground in front of us, a big oblong around which the entire human population stood in a loose half circle.

Everyone was there. Everyone.

Kyle stepped forward.

We trembled, and Ian squeezed us gently.

Kyle did not look in our direction. We saw his face in profile; his right eye was nearly swollen shut.

"Walter died human," Kyle said. "None of us can ask for more than that." He threw a fistful of dirt into the dark shape on the ground.

He rejoined the group. We closed our eyes at his words.

Jared stood beside him. He took the short walk and stopped at the edge of Walter's grave.

"Walter was good through and through. Not one of us is his equal." He threw his sand.

Jamie walked forward, and Jared patted his shoulder once as they passed each other.

"Walter was brave," Jamie said. "He wasn't afraid to die, he wasn't afraid to live, and... he wasn't afraid to believe. He made his own decisions, and he made good ones." Jamie threw his handful. He turned and walked back, his eyes locked on ours the whole way.

"Your turn," he whispered when he was at our side.

Andy was already moving forward, a shovel in his hands.

"Wait," Jamie said in a low voice that carried in the silence. "Wanda and Ian haven't said anything."

There was an unhappy mutter around us. Our brain felt like it was pitching and heaving inside our skull.

"Let's have some respect," Jeb said, louder than Jamie. It felt too loud to us.

My first instinct was to wave Andy ahead and make Ian carry me away, but I wouldn’t have been able to even if Mel’s certainty weren’t pushing that instinct away already. I was in mourning. We were. And we both had something to say.

"Ian, help me get some sand."

Ian crouched down so we could scoop up a handful of the loose rocks at our feet. He rested our weight on his knee to get his own share of dirt. Then he straightened and carried us to the edge of the grave.

We couldn't see into the hole. It was dark under the overhang of rock, and the grave seemed to be very deep.

Ian began speaking before we could.

"Walter was the best and brightest of what is human," he said, and scattered his sand into the hole. It fell for a long time before we heard it hiss against the bottom.

Ian looked down at us.

It was absolutely silent in the starlit night. Even the wind was calm. We whispered, but we knew our voice carried to everyone.

"There was no hatred in your heart," I whispered. "That you existed is proof that we were wrong. We had no right to take your world from you, Walter.” We relaxed our fingers slightly, letting part of the sand down. Mel continued: “Goodbye.”

We let the rest of the rocks trickle through our fingers and waited until we heard them fall with a soft patter onto Walter's body, obscured in the deep, dark grave.

Andy started to work as soon as Ian took the first step back, shoveling from a mound of pale, dusty earth that was piled a few feet farther into the grotto. The shovel load hit with a thump rather than a whisper. The sound made us cringe.

Aaron stepped past us with another shovel. Ian turned slowly and carried us away to make room for them. The heavy thuds of falling dirt echoed behind us. Low voices began to murmur. We heard footsteps as people milled and huddled to discuss the funeral.

We really looked at Ian for the first time as he walked back to the dark mat where it lay on the open dirt-out of place, not belonging. Ian's face was streaked with pale dust, his expression weary. We'd seen his face like that before. We couldn't pinpoint the memory before Ian had laid us on the mat again, and we were distracted. What were we supposed to do out here in the open? Sleep? Doc was right behind us; he and Ian both knelt down in the dust beside us.

“Hey, Wanda,” Doc said softly, apologetically.

“Hi,” we said just as softly. “I think I was a bit slaphappy. Um. Please don’t do that again. But… sorry for, you know. Thinking you were going to kill me.”

He smiled, drooping with relief. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t think—I just want to know you’re okay. I couldn’t check you out. Could I…?”

We waved a hand. He prodded at our side and we winced, but tried not to move.

"How are you feeling?"

“Like shit,” we muttered.

His smile widened. “Let's give this leg a few days." He pulled our left eyelid up, absentminded, and shone a tiny beam of light into it. Our right eye saw the bright reflection that danced across his face. He squinted away from the light, recoiling a few inches. Ian's hand on our shoulder didn't flinch. That surprised us.

"Hmm. That doesn't help a diagnosis, does it? How does your head feel?" Doc asked.

"A little dizzy. It's the drugs, probably, though, not the wound. I don't like them."

Doc grimaced. So did Ian.

"I'm going to have to put you under again, Wanda. I'm sorry."

“I know,” we said, tired. “Jamie said they wouldn’t have me here otherwise.”

Doc pulled the little syringe from his pocket. It was already depressed, only a quarter left. We shied away from it, unable not to, but didn’t struggle. Ian sighed, but he was a wall: we knew, then and there, that if we struggled, he would hold us.

_Round and round we go_ , Mel thought.

Doc took our wrist, and we didn't fight him. We looked away as the needle bit into our skin, looked at Ian. His eyes were midnight in the dark. We looked away.

"Sorry," he muttered. It was the last thing we heard.


	7. chapter 35: TRIED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I do if I read ahead and see all the interesting scenes I can change? I guess you guys will just have to bear with me for a while longer.

We groaned. Our head felt all swirly and disconnected. Our stomach rolled nauseatingly.

"Finally," someone murmured in relief. Ian. Of course. "Hungry?"

We thought about that and then made an involuntary gagging sound.

"Oh. Never mind. Sorry. Again. We had to do it. People got all... paranoid when we took you outside."

"We know," we sighed.

"Want some water?"

"No."

We opened our eyes, trying to focus in the darkness. We could see two stars through the cracks overhead. Still night. Or night again, who knew?

"Where are we?" we asked. The shapes of the cracks were unfamiliar. We would swear we'd never stared at this ceiling before.

"Your room," Ian said.

We searched for his face in the darkness but could only make out the black shape that was his head. With our fingers, we examined the surface we lay on; it was a real mattress. There was a pillow under our head. Our searching hand touched his, and he caught our fingers in his.

“Whose room is it really?"

"Yours."

"Ian."

"It used to be ours—Kyle's and mine,” he admitted. “Kyle's being... held in the hospital wing until things can be decided. I can move in with Wes."

"We’re not taking your room. And what do you mean, until things can be decided?"

"I told you there would be a tribunal."

If we had had the energy to explosively sigh, we would have. "When?"

"Why do you want to know?"

We gave him a dry look.

“He deserves this,” he muttered.

“We’re the ones who decide that,” we told him.

“You want to go and—and lie. And protect him. I won’t take you.”

“We will _crawl_ , Ian,” we said, almost sweet, “if we have to. You will stand and watch us do it, will you?”

He winced, clearly upset. “Of course not!”

“When’s the trial, then?”

He gave up. “First light.” He dropped our hand and straightened slowly to his feet. We could hear his joints pop as he stood. How long had he been sitting in the dark, waiting for us to wake? "I'll be back soon. You might not be hungry, but I'm starving."

"You had a long night."

"Yes."

"If it gets light, we won't sit here waiting for you."

He chuckled without humor. "I'm sure that's true. So I'll be back before that, and I will help you get where you're going."

He leaned one of the doors away from the entrance to his cave, stepped around it, and then let it fall back into place. We frowned. That might be hard to do on one leg. We hoped Ian truly was coming back. We _would_ crawl, but we would not be happy about it.

While we waited for him, we stared up at the two stars we could see and let our head slowly become stationary. We really didn't like human drugs. Ugh. Our body hurt, but the lurching in our head was worse.

 _Always been like that_ , Mel said with a sigh.

Time passed slowly, but we didn't fall asleep. We'd been sleeping most of the last twenty-four hours. We probably were hungry, too, and our sensibilities wouldn’t let us go long without food even if our stomach kept throwing this tantrum; Mel had almost starved too many times for it to be different.

Ian came back before the light, just as he'd promised.

"Feeling any better?" he asked as he stepped around the door.

"Maybe. We haven’t moved our head yet."

"Do you think it's you reacting to the morphine, or Melanie's body? Or—I guess, Melanie reacting to the morphine? Or—er. Whoever I’m speaking to…? I know you told me to stop trying to tell who is speaking, but the way you are, talking in plural—Wanda, I have no rightly idea what’s going on."

We smiled. He walked closer and sat beside us, and tangled our fingers again. A part of us recoiled, but we were too comfortable with him to mind it much.

“It’s hard,” we told him slowly, trying to put into words what we didn’t understand ourselves; but we wanted to give him this, he who asked, who wanted to understand and wouldn’t judge us for the answer, “it’s hard…”

“Being two people at once,” he completed, parroting us, then furrowed his brows. “But...”

“It’s hard to differentiate,” we corrected, “sometimes, who is doing what. If Mel did something, if—if Wanderer did something, who is moving or talking. It stops mattering. It’s been so long. It doesn’t _feel_ , most times, like there’s a difference.”

The lines between his brows deepened, but he didn’t interject.

“When we almost died,” we started, voice so low it was almost a whisper, eyes far away, “in the desert, when we were so hungry and so thirsty and it was so _hot_ … there was a wall between us. Before that. Wanderer could keep Melanie out, shut the door, have the control souls are _supposed_ to have over their hosts. But the wall crumbled, after that. It didn’t matter who was starving, because it was both of us. It didn’t matter who was walking, or crying, or trying to reach Jamie, because it was both of us.”

His fingers tightened around ours, his breath picking up—maybe he hadn’t thought, hadn’t remembered, the state we had been brought in, months ago. Jeb had found us in the desert hours away from death.

“I’m sorry,” he said, because there was really nothing else to say. “So you’re—not Wanda?”

We laughed minutely.

“Ian,” we said, “we don’t know.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Is it… is it _they_ and _them_ for you, then?” he asked, squinting at us. Confused, but trying.

“Maybe,” we allowed. “We try not to… not to speak in plural around other people. We’ve just been so—it’s been a hard few days. But most people… it’s better not to.”

“Alright,” he said, then put a lid on it: “Are you hungry yet?"

We smiled, glad for the respite. “Is that bread you have? Our stomach is past the worst, I think."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

His shadow sprawled out beside us. He felt for our hand, then pulled our fingers open and placed a familiar round shape in it.

"Help us up?" we asked.

He put his arm carefully around our shoulders and folded us up in one stiff piece, minimizing the ache in our side. We could feel something foreign on the skin there, tight and rigid: the wrap Doc had made for our maybe-broken ribs. Fucking Kyle and his boulder fists.

"Thanks," we said, a little breathless. Our head spun slowly. We touched our side with our free hand. Ian noticed.

“Is it hurting? We can talk to Doc again.”

“There’s not much to be done,” we said.

"He's doing as much as he can," Ian said, sad.

"He tries so hard."

"He does."

"We feel bad... that we used to not like him," we admitted.

Ian laughed. "Of course you didn't. I'm amazed you can like any of us."

We shrugged, because honestly we wondered the same sometimes, and dug our teeth into the hard roll. We chewed mechanically and then swallowed, setting the bread down as we waited to see how it hit our stomach.

"Not very appetizing, I know," Ian said.

We shrugged. "Just testing to see if the nausea's really passed. We really have had worse."

"Maybe something more appealing..."

We looked at him, curious, but we couldn't really see his face. We listened to a sharp crackle and a ripping sound... and then we could smell, and we understood.

"Cheetos!" we cried. "Really? Holy shit, Ian. Can we really have some?"

Something touched our other hand, and we brought it up to our lips. We crunched into the delicacy he offered.

“We've been dreaming about this." We sighed as we chewed.

That made him laugh. He put the bag in our hands.

We downed the contents of the small bag quickly, and then finished our roll, seasoned by the cheese flavor still in our mouth. He handed us a bottle of water before we could ask; damn but those things were saltier than we remembered.

"Thank you. For more than the Cheetos, you know. For so much."

"You're more than welcome, Wanda."

We stared into his dark blue eyes, trying to decipher everything he was saying with that sentence—there seemed to be something more than just courtesy in the words. And then we realized that we could see the color of Ian's eyes; we glanced quickly up at the cracks above. The stars were gone, and the sky was turning pale gray. Dawn was coming. First light.

"Are you sure you have to do this?" Ian asked, his hands already half-extended as if to pick us up.

We nodded. "You don't have to carry us. The leg feels better."

"We'll see."

He helped us to my feet, leaving his arm around our waist and pulling our arm around his neck.

"Careful, now. How's that?"

We hobbled forward a step. It hurt, but we could do it. "Great. Let's go."

 _I’m not sure about Ian,_ Mel said, hesitant. _He… he likes you too much._

 _He likes us_ , I corrected. _What’s not to be sure about? He’s kind, he believes us_. _He knows you’re here, how we work._

 _I know_ , she said, and then continued: _what about Jared?_

I didn’t know what she meant, and suddenly I did, and couldn’t help the flush rising to our face.

 _It’s not—it can’t be_ , I said _. He knows what I am. We’re not—human. He won’t like me—us—like that. He’s just kind._

 _I’m not sure_ , Melanie said, quiet, and then didn’t want to talk anymore.

It took us a long time. We were surprised by how far we had to go. We’d been thinking we were going to the big plaza or the kitchen—the usual places for congregating. But we went through the eastern field and kept going until we finally reached the big, deep black cave that Jeb had called the game room. We hadn't been here since my first tour. The biting scent of the sulfurous spring greeted us.

Unlike most of the caverns here, the game room was much wider than it was tall. We could see that now because the dim blue lights hung from the ceiling rather than resting on the floor. The ceiling was only a few feet over our head, the height of a normal ceiling in a house. But we couldn't even see the walls, they were so distant from the lights. We couldn't see the smelly spring, tucked away in some far corner, but we could hear it dribble and gush. We contained a flinch.

Kyle sat in the brightest spot of light. He had his long arms wrapped around his legs. His face was set in a stiff mask. He didn't look up when Ian helped us limp in.

On either side of him were Jared and Doc, on their feet, both with their arms hanging loose and ready at their sides. As though they were... guards.

Jeb stood beside Jared, his gun slung over one shoulder. He appeared relaxed, but we knew how quickly that could change. Jamie held his free hand... no, Jeb had his hand around Jamie's wrist, and Jamie didn't seem happy about it. When he saw us come in, though, he smiled and waved. He took a deep breath and looked pointedly at Jeb. Jeb dropped Jamie's wrist.

Sharon stood beside Doc, with Aunt Maggie at her other side.

Ian pulled us toward the edge of the darkness surrounding the tableau. We weren't alone there. We could see the shapes of many others, but not their faces.

It was strange; through the caves, Ian had supported most of our weight with ease. Now, though, he seemed to have tired. His arm around our waist was slack. We lurched and hopped forward as best we could until he picked the spot he wanted. He stopped, ready to settle us to the floor, and we stomped down on his foot.

He turned a jump into a flinch, sending us a betrayed look.

“ _Hey_ ,” he said.

We glared at him.

He settled us to the floor, and then sat beside us.

"Ouch," we heard someone whisper.

We turned and could just make out Trudy. She scooted closer to us, Geoffrey and then Heath copying her.

"You look rotten," she told us. "How bad are you hurt?"

We shrugged, unable to think of something not terrible to say.

Wes and Lily arrived then and came to sit with our little group of allies. Brandt entered a few seconds later, and then Heidi, and then Andy and Paige. Aaron was last.

"That's everybody," he said. "Lucina's staying with her kids. She doesn't want them here—she said to go on without her."

Aaron sat beside Andy, and there was a short moment of silence.

"Okay, then," Jeb said in a loud voice meant to be heard by all. "Here's how it's gonna work. Straight-up majority vote. As usual, I'll make my own decision if I have a problem with the majority, 'cause this—"

"Is my house," several voices interjected in chorus. Someone chuckled but stopped quickly. This wasn't funny. A human was on trial for trying to kill an alien. This had to be a horrible day for all of them.

"Who's speaking against Kyle?" Jeb asked.

Ian started to stand beside us.

"No!" we whispered, tugging on his elbow.

He shrugged me off and rose to his feet. “I won’t stop you, Wanda,” he murmured, “but I won’t stay quiet. He _is_ my brother.”

We couldn’t argue with that, even as betrayal churned in our chest, sour and sickly.

"This is simple enough," Ian said. "My brother was warned. He was not in any doubt about Jeb's ruling on this. Wanda is one of our community—the same rules and protections apply to her as to any of us. Jeb told Kyle point-blank that if he couldn't live with her here, he should move on. Kyle decided to stay. He knew then and he knows now the penalty for murder in this place."

"It's still alive," Kyle grunted.

"Which is why I'm not asking for your death," Ian snapped back. "But you can't live here anymore. Not if you're a murderer at heart. I’m not perfectly innocent," he continued, voice low with shame, “but I learned. You’ve refused to.”

Ian stared at his brother for a moment, then sat on the ground beside us again.

"But he could get caught, and we'd have no idea," Brandt protested, rising to his feet. "He'll lead them back here, and we'd have no warning."

There was a murmur through the room.

Kyle glared at Brandt. "They'll never get me alive."

"Then it's a death sentence after all," someone muttered at the same time that Andy said, "You can't guarantee that."

"One at a time," Jeb warned.

"I've survived on the outside before," Kyle said angrily.

Another voice came from the darkness. "It's a risk." We couldn't make out the owners of the voices—they were just hissing whispers.

And another. "What did Kyle do wrong? Nothing."

Jeb took a step toward the voice, glowering. "My rules."

"She's not one of us," someone else protested.

Ian started to rise again.

"Hey!" Jared exploded. His voice was so loud that everyone jumped. "Wanda's not on trial here! Does someone have a concrete complaint against her—against Wanda herself? Then ask for another tribunal. But we all know she hasn't harmed anyone here. In fact, she saved his life." He stabbed one finger toward Kyle's back. Kyle's shoulders hunched, like he'd felt the jab. "Just seconds after he tried to throw her into the river, she risked her life to keep him from the same painful death. She had to know that if she let him fall she would be safer here. She saved him anyway. Would any of you have done the same—rescue your enemy? He tried to kill her, and yet will she even speak against him?"

We felt all the eyes in the dark room on our face as Jared now held his hand out, palm up, toward us. We stared at him wide-eyed, stunned that he was speaking for us, to us, that he was using my name. There was kindness in his face as he looked at us, softness in his eyes that had been absent so long.

 _Does he believe us?_ Mel asked, fervent and desperate. _Does he?_

 _I don’t know_ , I said, just as fervent.

"Will you speak against him, Wanda?"

It was a few seconds before we could find our voice.

“I don’t want him tried,” we said, trying to make our voice firm when it wanted to buckle. “He hurt me, but I don’t want him dead or thrown out. It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” he asked, surprised.

We curled our shoulders in. “Other people have tried to kill me here,” we said, voice lowering despite our efforts, eyes veering away. _Other people like you._ “It’s not fair that he is the only one to die for it.”

There was silence in the room. When Jared spoke, there was no shame in his voice, but we _knew him_ —we knew he was trying very hard to hide it.

“Jeb has a rule, and it needs to be followed,” he said. “He’s tried _after_ the rule was implemented.”

“That’s what I said,” Ian muttered.

“I don’t care,” we said simply. “Other people learned to tolerate me because they were forced to. Give him time to get used to me. It really _isn’t_ safe to let him out, and no one here will want to kill him for me.”

“It’s right,” Maggie said harshly, like saying it was a physical wound. “We won’t kill Kyle nor accept the danger of exiling him. It doesn’t even find fault in him!”

"Mag—" Jeb started.

"Shut up, Jebediah—I'm speaking. There is no reason for us to be here. No human was attacked. The insidious trespasser offers no complaint. This is a waste of all our time."

"I second that," Sharon added in a clear, loud voice.

Doc shot her a pained look.

Trudy jumped to her feet. "We can't house a murderer—and just wait around for him to be successful!"

"Murder is a subjective term," Maggie hissed. "I only consider it murder when something human is killed."

We felt Ian's arm wrap around our shoulder. We didn't realize that we were trembling until his motionless body was against ours.

"Human is a subjective term as well, Magnolia," Jared said, glowering at her. "I thought the definition embraced some compassion, some little bit of mercy."

"Let's vote," Sharon said before her mother could answer him. "Raise your hand if you think Kyle should be allowed to stay here, with no penalty for…what happened." She shot a glance not at us, but at Ian beside us.

Hands began to rise. We watched Jared's face as his features settled into a scowl.

We raised our hand. Ian was the one to make a noise like it had hurt him, but we weren’t feeling too fond of him right now, either way. Let it hurt him.

 _We did him a favor, saving his brother_ , Mel hissed.

 _It’s not the same as with us and Jamie_ , I said softly.

Jeb counted out loud. "Ten... fifteen... twenty... twenty-three. Okay, that's a clear majority."

We didn't look around to see who had voted how. It was enough that in our little corner all arms were crossed tightly over chests and all eyes stared at Jeb with expectant expressions. It was so much more than we had thought we would get, even though we didn’t _want_ Kyle to be punished.

Jamie walked away from Jeb to come squeeze in between Trudy and us. He put his arm around us, under Ian's.

"Maybe your souls were right about us," he said, loud enough for most to hear his high, hard voice. "The majority are no better than—"

"Hush!" we hissed at him. “Jamie, what the fuck?”

"Okay," Jeb said. Everyone went silent. Jeb looked down at Kyle, then at us, and then at Jared. "Okay, I'm inclined to go with the majority on this."

"Jeb—" Jared and Ian said simultaneously.

"My house, my rules," Jeb reminded them. "Never forget that. So you listen to me, Kyle. And you'd better listen, too, I think, Magnolia. Anyone who tries to hurt Wanda again will not get a tribunal, they will get a burial." He slapped the butt of his gun for emphasis.

We flinched.

Magnolia glared hatefully at her brother.

Kyle nodded, as if accepting the terms.

Jeb looked around the unevenly spaced audience, locking eyes with each member except the little group beside us.

"Tribunal's over," Jeb announced. "Who's up for a game?"


	8. chapter 36: BELIEVED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like it!! Comments and reviews are appreciated :) I'm just going to keep on writing tbh.... the five extra chapters there are because I spent a few days ago writing these in a fury. So there's a lot promised for you guys for now!

The congregation relaxed, and a more enthusiastic murmur ran around the half circle.

We looked at Jamie. He pursed his lips and shrugged. "Jeb's just trying to get things back to normal. It's been a bad couple of days. Burying Walter..."

We winced.

We saw that Jeb was grinning at Jared. After a moment of resistance, Jared sighed and rolled his eyes at the strange old man. He turned and strode quickly from the cave.

"Jared got a new ball?" someone asked.

"Cool," Wes said beside us.

"Playing games," Trudy muttered, and shook her head.

"If it eases the tension," Lily responded quietly, shrugging.

Their voices were low, close beside us, but we could also hear other, louder voices.

"Easy on the ball this time," Aaron said to Kyle. He stood over him, offering his hand.

Kyle took the offered hand and got slowly to his feet. When he was standing, his head almost hit the hanging lanterns.

"The last ball was weak," Kyle said, grinning at the older man. "Structurally deficient."

"I nominate Andy for captain," someone shouted.

"I nominate Lily," Wes called out, getting to his feet and stretching.

"Andy and Lily."

"Yeah, Andy and Lily."

"I want Kyle," Andy said quickly.

"Then I get Ian," Lily countered.

"Jared."

"Brandt."

Jamie got to his feet and stood on his toes, trying to look tall.

"Paige."

"Heidi."

"Aaron."

"Wes."

The roll call continued. Jamie glowed when Lily chose him before half the adults were taken. Even Maggie and Jeb were picked for teams. The numbers were even until Lucina came back with Jared, her two small boys bouncing in excitement. Jared had a shiny new soccer ball in his hand; he held it out, and Isaiah, the older child, jumped up and down trying to knock it from his hand.

"Wanda?" Lily asked.

We shook our head and pointed to our leg, though she laughed at the look of abject sadness in our face. We were _good_ at soccer, and we hadn’t properly exercised in so long. We _wanted_ to get moving, to _play_ , to participate in this moment of winding down. So much had happened. But at the same time, we already felt faint again. We needed rest.

"I think I'll sit this one out," Ian said.

"No," Wes complained. "They've got Kyle and Jared. We're dead without you."

"Don’t be stupid,” we told him. “Go play. I’ll keep the score or something.”

He looked at us, his lips pressed into a thin, rigid line. "I'm not really in the mood for playing a game."

"They need you."

He snorted.

"C'mon, Ian," Jamie urged.

"I want to play but can’t," we said. "Go on so I can live vicariously through you. It’ll be boring if one team has too much advantage—and anyway, do you want _Kyle’s_ team to win?”

“You ass,” Ian said fondly.

But he got up and started stretching with Wes.

Paige set up goalposts, four lanterns.

We tried to get to our feet—we were right in the middle of the field. Nobody noticed us in the dim light. All around, the atmosphere was upbeat now, charged with anticipation. We felt a stab of sadness again, and sighed.

We were able to get onto all fours, and then we pulled our good leg forward so we were kneeling on the bad. It hurt. We tried to hop up onto our good leg from there. Surely we had done stupider things and won. Our balance was all off, thanks to the awkward weight of our sore leg.

Strong hands caught us before we could fall on our face. We looked up, a little rueful, to thank Ian.

The words caught in our throat when we saw that it was Jared whose arms held us up.

"You could have just asked for help," he said conversationally.

"I—" We cleared our throat. "I guess. I can do it, though. "

“Right,” he said dryly—but simply, like there were no harder feelings behind it. He helped us hobble toward the cave entrance. “I don't think Jamie or Ian would begrudge you a helping hand. Why not call them?"

We glanced back at them over our shoulder. In the low light, neither had noticed we were gone yet. They were bouncing the ball off their heads, and laughing when Wes caught it in the face.

"But they're having fun.”

Jared examined our face. We realized we were smiling in affection and our smile immediately dropped.

"You care about the kid quite a bit," he said.

We shrugged, because we obviously did.

He nodded. "And the man?"

"Ian believes me,” was the first thing we said, and we saw the grimace that brought to his face. We smiled at it. “He watches over me. And he’s my friend, I guess. There doesn’t need to be anything super special about it. He… he’s kind, for a human.”

Jared snorted. "For a human. A more important distinction than I'd realized."

He lowered us to the lip of the entrance. It made a shallow bench that was more comfortable than the flat floor.

"Jeb did the right thing, you know," we told him.

"I don't agree with that." Jared's tone was milder than his words.

"You don’t have to agree with it,” we said just as mildly. “You just have to understand that it was the right thing.”

“I would have thought Mel would want him to fry,” he said, voice quiet, not looking at us.

Our lips thinned.

“Don’t be stupid,” Melanie said. “If they killed or exiled Kyle, it would only breed resentment. I have enough people wanting to kill me while thinking they’re angry about my murder. And I was right to say it wasn’t fair. It’s not like he’s _wrong_ to be angry about the fact that people like Wanderer took over the world and killed everyone he loved.”

Jared couldn’t help but look at us. His eyes were wide and wet, though his eyebrows were low over them: a man filled with hope, wishing he wasn’t.

“Mel… was that Mel?” He tried to keep his voice even.

We glared at him. “Did you have another change of heart, then?”

He looked away, ashamed. “Not even I can lie to myself for so long,” he said with a small, sardonic laugh. “I just… I didn’t want to believe… I didn’t want to hope, because what if—”

He didn’t continue. We sat in silence beside him.

“How… how present is she?” he asked quietly. “How much of her is left?”

We stalled. “What changed your mind? Why do you believe me now?”

He thought for a moment. "An... accumulation of things. You were so... kind to Walter. I've never seen anyone but Doc be that compassionate. And you saved Kyle's life, where most of us would have let him fall just to protect ourselves, intended murder aside." He laughed once. "I kept trying to see these things as evidence of some grand plot. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and feel that way again."

We flinched and his laughter died.

"But when they started attacking you today... well, I snapped,” he continued more softly. “I could see in them everything that shouldn't have been in me. I realized I already did believe, and that I was just being obstinate. Cruel. I think I've believed since... well, a little bit since that first night when you put yourself in front of me to save me from Kyle." He laughed as if he didn't think Kyle was dangerous. "But I'm better at lying than you are. I can even lie to myself."

“I won’t sit here and just wait for you to change your mind again,” we said quietly. “I can’t handle that anymore, Jared.”

He closed his eyes. "Mel."

We heart thudded faster in our chest. It was joy doing that, but also dread. We had no idea how much he believed, which parts, what he might do if something convinced him otherwise again. We hated this precipice, and hated our swirling, layered feelings: the love, the joy, the resentment, the resentment of the love, the horrible fear of him.

"Tell her... that won't happen. I won’t… I won’t let it."

"Jared,” we said wearily, “I’m here.”

He kept his eyes away. "How... straightforward is the connection?"

We closed our own eyes, breathing in and out slowly.

"I’ve been here all along, Jared,” she said. “The connection is as straightforward as it fucking gets. We’ve been lying, me and Wanderer. We knew that if we told you that I was still here like this, then you would all think of us as lying Seekers and kill us. But I’ve been _here_ all along.”

His eyes were dragged to us as though by a physical force, like it would hurt to keep them away from longer. His eyebrows were bunched up, and the tears were dangerously close to falling. We pursed our lips.

We loved him so much. We were so tired of his pain.

“So she—you—you felt everything?”

"Yeah."

He touched our face again, softly, a caress. "You don't know how sorry I am."

Our skin felt hotter where he had touched it; it was a good heat, but his words burned hotter than his touch. Of course he was sorrier for hurting her. Of course he didn’t care about me, about us; of course he only cared about her—though a part of us was _glad_ for it, glad that his heart was still true, even when we were so together—

We caught his wrist, drawing it away. It hurt to do that, but we hated how complicated things got between us when he was around. And we… we didn’t want to be with him right now.

It hurt.

Around us, echoing above the lower pitch of adult laughter, Jamie sounded delighted. We both turned to look at him.

“I’d sort of forgotten what his laugh sounded like,” Jared said quietly. “I should have guessed it was because you’re here. The kid is smarter than any of us.”

“I guess,” we whispered. “I’m glad. I’d never do anything to hurt anyone here. Not on purpose. I'm sorry that I hurt you when I came here. And Jamie. So sorry. I hoped I hadn't damaged anything permanently."

“Why would having you back damage anything?” he asked, frowning.

We winced. “I mean—Wanderer.”

“Oh,” he said, face clearing. “Uh. We need a way to—to differentiate who’s talking. I guess. Jesus Christ,” he whispered, rubbing at his face.

We shrugged. “Good luck.”

He sighed, smiling sadly. “You ass.”

We smiled. “That’s us alright. A violent ass.”

“Maybe that’ll come in handy,” he said. “The Seeker’s still searching, but she had to return the helicopter at least. You can stop Wanda from running to her arms if she gets too close.”

We closed our eyes, clenched our fists, and concentrated on breathing for several seconds.

"I didn't used to be afraid of her," we whispered, staunchly ignoring the stupider parts of his words. "I don't know why she scares me so much now. Where is she?"

"Don't worry. She was just up and down the highway yesterday. She won't find us."

We nodded, willing ourselves to believe.

"Mel… what are you… what are you thinking of right now?" His voice was just a whisper.

“I’m thinking this match is going to be awfully boring if you keep lingering here instead of going to play.”

"C'mon, Jared! Let's go!"

It was Kyle calling to Jared. He seemed utterly at ease, as if he had not been on trial for his life today. Maybe he'd known it would go his way. Maybe he was quick to get over anything. He didn't seem to notice us there beside Jared, or the way we froze at the sight of him.

The others had finally found us.

Jamie was watching us with a satisfied smile. Of course he was; his family was somewhat back together, or at least not trying to kill each other anymore. Even though I was there, Wanderer, an extra piece throwing the whole puzzle into disarray, Jamie had never seemed to mind. Not when it meant getting Mel back.

 _Shut up_ , she said. _He likes you too._

 _But not like you,_ I said. _I’m not his sister._

 _Shut up_ , she repeated.

Jeb was watching curiously too, that little smile gathering up the corners of his beard.

Sharon and Maggie watched with fire in their eyes. Their expressions were so much the same that the youthful skin and bright hair did nothing to make Sharon look younger than her grizzled mother.

Ian was worried. His eyes were tight, and he seemed on the verge of coming to protect us again. To make sure Jared wasn't upsetting us. We rolled our eyes and shrugged, and he took a deep breath, at least a bit reassured.

“Are you two… talking right now?” Jared was on his feet but still watching our face.

“Yeah,” we said.

"About what?"

"We're noticing what the others think of your... change of heart." We nodded towards Mel’s aunt and cousin. They turned their backs on us in synchronization.

"Tough nuts," he acknowledged.

"Fine, then," Kyle boomed, turning his body toward the ball that sat under the brightest spot of light. "We'll win it without you."

"I'm coming!" Jared threw one wistful glance at us and ran to get in on the game.

We weren’t the best scorekeeper. It was too dark to see the ball from where we sat. It was too dark even to see the players well when they weren't right under the lights. We began counting from Jamie's reactions. His shout of victory when his team scored, his groan when the other team did. The groans outnumbered the shouts.

Everyone played. Maggie was the goalie for Andy's team, and Jeb was the goalie for Lily's. They were both surprisingly good. I could see their silhouettes in the light from the goalpost lamps, moving as lithely as if they were decades younger. Jeb was not afraid to hit the floor to stop a goal, but Maggie was more effective without resorting to such extremes. She was like a magnet for the invisible ball. Every time Ian or Wes got off a shot... _thunk!_ It landed in her hands.

Trudy and Paige quit after a half hour or so and passed us on their way out, chattering with excitement. It seemed impossible that we'd started the morning with a trial, but we were relieved that things had changed so drastically.

The women weren't gone long. They came back with arms full of boxes. Granola bars—the kind with fruit filling. The game came to a halt. Jeb called halftime, and everyone hurried over to eat breakfast.

The goods were divvied up at the center line. It was a mob scene at first.

"Here you go, Wanda," Jamie said, ducking out of the group. He had his hands full of the bars, and water bottles tucked under his arms.

"Thanks. Having fun?"

"Yeah! Wish you could play."

"Next time," we said.

"Here you go..." Ian was there, his hands full of granola bars.

"Beat ya," Jamie told him.

"Oh," Jared said, appearing on Jamie's other side. He also had too many bars for one.

Ian and Jared exchanged a long glance, then both of them snapped to us when we let out a bark of laughter at it.

"Where's all the food?" Kyle demanded. He stood over an empty box, his head swiveling around the room, looking for the culprit.

"Catch," Jared said, tossing granola bars one by one, hard, like knives.

Kyle plucked them out of the air with ease, then jogged over to see if Jared was holding out on him.

"Here," Ian said, shoving half of his haul toward his brother without looking at him. "Now go."

Kyle ignored him. For the first time today, he looked at us, staring down at us where we sat. His irises were black with the light behind him. We couldn't read his expression.

We recoiled, and caught our breath when our ribs protested.

Jared and Ian closed ranks in front of us like stage curtains.

"You heard him," Jared said.

"Can I say something first?" Kyle asked. He peered down through the space between them.

They didn't respond.

"I'm not sorry," Kyle told us. "I still think it was the right thing to do."

Ian shoved his brother. Kyle reeled back but then stepped forward again.

"Hold on, I'm not done."

"Yeah, you are," Jared said. His hands were clenched, the skin over his knuckles white.

Everyone had noticed now. The room was hushed, all the fun of the game lost.

"No, I'm not." Kyle held his hands up, a gesture of surrender, and spoke to us again. "I don't think I was wrong, but you did save my life. I don't know why, but you did. So I figure, a life for a life. I won't kill you. I'll pay the debt that way."

"You stupid jackass," Ian said.

"Who's got the crush on a worm, bro? You gonna call me stupid?"

Ian lifted his fists, leaning forward.

“I’ll tell you why,” we said, making our voice louder than the others’.

We struggled to stand and Ian and Jared rushed to our side, each holding one arm of ours. We let go of them once we were up, balancing on our good leg. But we didn’t want to appear weak, and being supported was the sort of thing someone stupid like Kyle would look down on us for.

“I saved your life because I’m not like you,” we said, hands closing in fists. “I don’t mean _human_. There are good and kind people here, like Ian and Jeb and Doc. I’m not like you personally, because personally you are a piece of shit, Kyle.” Ian’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

Kyle stared at us for a minute and then chuckled. "Ouch," he said, still laughing. He turned away from us then, his message given, and walked back to get some water. "Life for a life," he called over his shoulder.

We didn’t really believe him. Humans were good liars.


	9. chapter 37: WANTED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another rewritten chapter of The Host.

There was a pattern to the wins. If Jared and Kyle played together, they won. If Jared played with Ian, then that team would win. It seemed that Jared could not be defeated, until the brothers played together.

At first it seemed to be a strained thing, for Ian at least, playing as teammates with Kyle. But after a few minutes of running in the dark, they fell into a familiar pattern—a pattern that had existed for years now.

Kyle knew what Ian would do before Ian did it, and vice versa. Without having to speak, they told each other everything. Even when Jared pulled all the best players to his side—Brandt, Andy, Wes, Aaron, Lily, and Maggie as goalie—Kyle and Ian were victorious.

"Okay, okay," Jeb said, catching Aaron's goal attempt with one hand and tucking the ball under his arm. "I think we all know the winners. Now, I hate to be a party pooper, but there's work waiting... and, to be honest, I'm bushed."

There were a few halfhearted protests and a few moans, but more laughter. No one seemed too upset to have the fun end. From the way a few people sat down right where they were and put their heads between their knees to breathe, it was clear Jeb wasn't the only one who was tired out.

People began to drift out in twos and threes. We scooted to one side of the corridor's mouth, making room for them to pass, probably on their way to the kitchen. It had to be past time for lunch, though it was hard to mark the hour in this black hole. Through the gaps in the line of exiting humans, we watched Kyle and Ian.

When the game was called, Kyle had raised his hand for a high five, but Ian had stalked past him without acknowledging the gesture. Then Kyle caught his brother's shoulder and spun him around. Ian knocked Kyle's hand away. We tensed for a fight—and it seemed like one at first. Kyle threw a punch toward Ian's stomach. Ian dodged it easily, though, and I saw that there was no force behind it. Kyle laughed and used his superior reach to rub his fist into Ian's scalp. Ian smacked that hand away, but this time he halfway smiled.

"Good game, bro," we heard Kyle say. "You've still got it."

"You're such an idiot, Kyle," Ian answered.

"You got the brains; I got the looks. Seems fair."

Kyle threw another half-strength punch. This time, Ian caught it and twisted his brother into a headlock. Now he was really smiling, and Kyle was cussing and laughing at the same time.

Fisticuffs. Play fighting. A part of us felt betrayed that Ian was already playing with his brother, even though that was what we had wanted. Stupid human emotions.

"Hungry?"

We looked up, and our heart stopped beating for a slightly painful moment. It seemed that Jared was still a believer.

We shook our head. "I'm not sure why, since I've done nothing besides sit here, but I'm just tired."

He held out his hand. We gave him a _look_ , trying not to shake, and took it.

He pulled us carefully to our feet—to our foot, really. We balanced there on our good leg, not sure how to proceed. He was confused, too. He still held our hand, but there was a wide space between us. We thought of how ridiculous we would look hopping through the caves, and felt our neck get warm. Our fingers curled around his, though we weren’t really using him for support.

"Where to?"

“Uh,” we said. We _knew_ that saying _Ian’s room_ would bring about problems.

Before we could actually answer, a strong arm hooked under ours, supporting our weight. We knocked our elbow on Ian’s ribs and he looked down at us with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Sorry, I was afraid he was going to drop you,” he clearly lied. “I’ll get you where you need to go.”

Jared's face was careful, the way he looked at us when he didn't want us to know what he was thinking. But he was looking at Ian now.

"We were just discussing where exactly that would be. She's tired. Maybe the hospital...?"

We shook our head at the same time Ian did. After the past horrible days spent there, we didn't think we could bear the room. Especially Walter's empty bed...

"I've got a better place for her," Ian said. "Those cots aren't much softer than rock, and she's got a lot of sore spots."

Jared still held our hand. Did he realize how tightly he was gripping it? The pressure was starting to get uncomfortable, but he didn't seem aware. We were torn: we wanted to keep holding him, but jealousy made our fingers lax.

 _You’re holding his hand,_ I tried.

 _But you are too_ , she grumbled.

"Why don't you get lunch?" Jared suggested to Ian. "You look hungry. I'll take her wherever you had planned...?"

Ian chuckled, a low, dark sound. "I'm fine. And honestly, Jared, Wanda needs a bit more help than a hand. I don't know if you're... comfortable enough with the situation to give her that. She’s had enough exercise for one day, I think. You go on ahead.”

“Will you idiots stop talking to each other as if I’m not here soon?” we asked blandly.

Both men turned their heads to us, guilty.

“Sorry,” Ian said easily.

“I can carry you, if you need the help,” Jared said in a low voice.

We were still holding hands, our fingertips going red from how tightly he was holding onto us. We looked away from him before he looked away from us. Truth was… we didn’t want him carrying us for so many reasons we didn’t want to untangle right now. It was easier to just shake our head.

 _Ow_ , Mel said quietly. _Why does everything have to be so complicated?_

 _Maybe they’d be less complicate if Jared weren’t such an ass,_ I said quietly.

To my surprise, she laughed—and to the surprise of the men too, because it burst out of us. We clapped a hand over our face, which pinked slightly.

“Oops.”

Ian smiled too, as if unable not to. “What’s so funny?”

We glanced at Jared, but were still upset with him enough to say it: “Uh, well, Wanderer called Jared an ass and Mel laughed.”

Jared’s face contorted in a strange way, as if he had absolutely no fucking idea how to react to that.

Ian grinned at us.

“I am tired, though,” we allowed. “If you’d take me, I’d be thankful.”

"I think I'll tag along," Jared said as Ian, with a tiny, triumphant smile hovering around the edges of his mouth, extended his arms to us. "There's something I want to discuss with you."

"Suit yourself."

We allowed Ian to carry us, settling against him with a sigh.

“I would have expected Mel to say she could damn well walk alone,” Jared said quietly.

We remembered suddenly many moments that were just like that: Mel tripping and twisting her ankle and refusing to let Jared carry her even though it hurt like hell; Mel with a fever and refusing to have Jared take up her turn on the watch; Mel with cramps complaining loudly when Jared tried to make her stay instead of going with him on a raid.

But Mel was part me now, and we were tired. We just shrugged, since there was no nice way to tell him.

Jared didn't discuss anything at all as we walked through the dark tunnel. He was so quiet, we weren’t sure he was still there. But when we broke out into the light of the cornfield again, he was right beside us.

He didn't speak until we were through the big plaza—until there was no one around but the three of us.

"What's your take on Kyle?" he asked Ian.

Ian snorted. "He prides himself on being a man of his word. Usually, I would trust a promise from him. In this situation... I'm not letting her out of my sight."

"Good."

“It’ll be fine,” we said, trying to believe it.

"No one is ever going to do something like this to you again,” Ian murmured to us. “You will be safe here."

It was hard to look away from his eyes when they blazed like that. Hard to doubt anything he said.

"Yes," Jared agreed. "You will."

He was walking just behind Ian's shoulder. We couldn't see his expression.

"Thanks," we whispered.

No one spoke again until Ian paused at the red and gray doors that leaned over the entrance to his cave.

"Would you mind getting that?" Ian said to Jared, nodding toward the doors.

Jared didn't move. Ian turned around so we could both see him; his face was careful again.

"Your room? This is your better place?" Jared's voice was full of skepticism.

"It's her room now."

We sighed as we foresaw the start of another shitty men discussion.

"Where's Kyle staying?"

"With Wes, for now."

"And you?"

"I'm not exactly sure."

We gave Ian a dry look he obviously ignored.

They stared at each other with appraising eyes.

“Just get the damn door for now, Howe.”

Wordlessly, Jared wrenched the red door back with a bit too much force and shoved it on top of the gray one.

We now really saw Ian's room for the first time, with the noon sun filtering down through the narrow cracks in the ceiling. It wasn't as bright as Jamie and Jared's room, or as tall. It was smaller, more proportionate. Roundish—sort of like our hole, only ten times the size. There were two twin mattresses on the floor, shoved against opposite walls to make a narrow aisle between them. Against the back wall, there was a long, low wooden cupboard; the left side had a pile of clothes on top, two books, and a stack of playing cards. The right side was completely empty, though there were shapes in the dust that indicated this was a recent occurrence.

Ian set us carefully down on the right mattress, arranging our leg and straightening the pillow under our head. Jared stood in the doorway, facing the passageway.

"That okay?" Ian asked us.

"Yeah.”

"You look tired."

“Ugh,” we said. “We’ve done nothing but sleep, but…”

"Your body needs sleep to heal."

We nodded. We couldn't deny that it was hard to hold up our eyelids.

"I'll bring you food later—don't worry about anything."

"Stop babying us,” we said fondly. “Thank you. And stop pulling at Jared’s pigtails. Of course you’ll sleep here. On the other mattress. What is this place, filled with extra rooms?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"You don't mind?"

“We don’t think it’d be good for anybody for us to sleep with Jared and Jamie right now,” we admitted quietly. No matter how much we _wanted_ to.

"Okay."

Our eyes were already closed. He patted our hand, and then we heard him get to his feet. A few seconds later, the wooden door clunked softly against stone.

 _What the fuck are we doing_ , Mel asked quietly.

_What?_

_We shouldn’t have let Ian sleep here_ , she asked, biting our bottom lip. She veered our eyes toward the door.

_Nothing’s going to happen._

_I know_ , she said. _But… you know what that must have seemed like. To him._

 _He doesn’t like us like that,_ I said.

 _He likes_ you _,_ Mel countered, and seemed sad—and then grew angry at her sadness. _Argh! I fucking hate this, Wanda. Why is it so hard—_

 _Being like this_ , I completed, exhausted.

"Do you think what happened this morning will influence Aaron or Brandt?" Ian asked in a low voice from the other side of the doors.

Our eyes snapped open. They were really having this stupid conversation right by us? Was there _any_ universe where we wouldn’t listen in on that?

"You mean Kyle getting a bye?"

"Yeah. They didn't have to... do anything before. Not when it looked so likely that Kyle would do it for them."

"I see your point. I'll speak to them."

"You think that will be enough?" Ian asked.

"I've saved both their lives. They owe me. If I ask them for something, they'll do it."

"You'd bet her life on that?"

There was a pause.

"We'll keep an eye on her," Jared finally said.

Another long silence.

"Aren't you going to go eat?" Jared asked.

"I think I'll hang out here for a bit... How about you?"

Jared didn't answer.

"What?" Ian asked. "Is there something you want to say to me, Jared?"

"The girl in there... Wanda…" Jared said slowly.

"Yes?"

"That body doesn't belong to her."

"Your point?"

Jared's voice was hard when he answered. "Keep your hands off it."

A low chuckle from Ian. "Jealous, Howe?"

"That's not really the issue."

"Really." Ian was sarcastic now.

"Wanda seems to be, more or less, cooperating with Melanie. It sounds like they're almost... on friendly terms. But obviously there’s still something going on there. I don’t know how present Melanie actually is, or how much of her talking is actually Wanda talking and we just assume, or she lies, or… I don’t know. What if it were you? How would you feel if you were Melanie? What if you were the one... invaded that way? You can argue she’s there, but she’s been… she’s been warped by Wanda. Wouldn't you want your wishes—as much as they could be known—respected? At the very least by other humans?"

"Okay, okay. Point taken. I'll keep that in mind."

"What do you mean, you'll keep that in mind?" Jared demanded.

"I mean that I'll think about it."

"There's nothing to think about," Jared retorted. We knew how he would look from the sound of his voice—teeth clenched, jaw strained. "The body and the person in there belong to me."

"Well, you’re the one who said she’s different now. You're sure that Melanie still feels the—”

"Melanie will always be mine. And I will always be hers."

_Always._

The spike of pain through our chest was so sudden that we almost gasped. We lifted a hand to our heart and tried not to cry. Of love. Of hope. Of agony.

We waited anxiously through the next silence.

“You know what Mel and Wanda have said before?” Ian asked in little more than a whisper. He waited as the silence stretched on.

“What?” Jared asked, exasperated.

“ _Jared makes no decision regarding us_. I’ll admit I don’t quite remember if those were the words they said, but still. Do you remember that? Because I do. This is a strange fucking situation, Jared, and I keep thinking—what if it were me? Stuffed in a human body and let loose on this planet, only to find yourself lost among your own kind? What if you were such a good... person that you tried to save the life you'd taken, that you almost died trying to get her back to her family? What if you then found yourself surrounded by violent aliens who hated you and hurt you and tried to murder you, over and over again?" His voice faltered momentarily. "What if you just kept doing whatever you could to save and heal these people despite that? Wouldn't you deserve a life, too? Wouldn't you have earned that much? As whatever you ended up becoming?"

Jared didn't answer. We felt our eyes getting moist. Did Ian really think so highly of us? Did he really think we'd earned the right to a life here?

 _He’s talking about you_ , Mel said quietly. _Not us. Ian doesn’t_ really _think of_ me _, does he?_

I didn’t know what to make of that. Could Ian even really know _me_ at all, at this point?

"Point taken?" Ian pressed.

"I—I'll have to think about that one."

"Do that."

"But still—"

Ian interrupted him with a sigh. "Don't get worked up. Wanda isn't exactly human, despite the body. She doesn't seem to respond to... physical contact the same way a human would."

Now Jared laughed. "Is that your theory?"

"What's funny?"

"She is quite capable of responding to physical contact," Jared informed him, his tone suddenly sober again. "She's human enough for that. Or her body is, anyway."

Our face went hot.

Ian was silent.

"Jealous, O'Shea?"

"Actually... I am. Surprisingly so." Ian's voice was strained. "How would you know that?"

Now Jared hesitated. "It was... sort of an experiment."

"An experiment?"

"It didn't go the way I thought it would. Mel punched me." We could hear that he was grinning at the memory, and we could see, in our head, the little lines fanning out around his eyes.

"Melanie... punched... you?"

"It sure wasn't Wanda. You should have seen her face... What? Hey, Ian, easy, man!"

"Did you think for one moment what that must have done to her?" Ian hissed.

"Mel?"

"No, you fool, Wanda!"

"Done to Wanda?" Jared asked, sounding bewildered by the idea.

"Oh, get out of here. Go eat something. Stay away from me for a few hours."

Ian didn't give him a chance to answer. He yanked the door out of his way—roughly but very quietly—and then slid into his room and put the door back in its place.

He turned and met our gaze. From his expression, he was surprised to find us awake. Surprised and chagrined. The fire in his eyes blazed and then slowly dimmed. He pursed his lips.

He cocked his head to one side, listening. We listened, too, but Jared's retreat made no sound. Ian waited for another moment, then sighed and plunked down on the edge of his mattress, across from us.

"I guess we weren't as quiet as I thought," he said.

"Sound carries in these caves," we whispered.

He nodded. "So..." he finally said. "What do you think?"


	10. chapter 38: TOUCHED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached 100 hits! Thank you everyone! Here's the next chap in celebration :)

What did we think about it? We had no rightly fucking idea.

Somehow, Ian was able to look at things from my perspective, my alien perspective. He thought I had earned a right to my life as us. But could he really know _me_? Was there even really a proper _me_ in here? It was strange to think of it, to think of Wanderer outside of Melanie, when it came to our life here in the caves, where we had always been together. Wanderer hadn’t known Ian as Wanderer.

But he was... jealous? Of Jared?

He knew what we were, body and soul. He knew I was just a tiny creature fused into the back of Melanie's brain. A worm, as Kyle had said. Yet even Kyle thought Ian had a "crush" on me. On _me?_ That wasn't possible.

 _I told you_ , Mel grumbled.

Maybe he wanted to know what we thought about Jared. Our feelings on the _experiment._ More details about our responses to physical contact. We shuddered.

Or our thoughts on Melanie? Melanie's thoughts on their conversation? Whether we agreed with Jared about her rights—the rights of the person she had _been_?

"We really don't know," we said.

He nodded. "That's understandable."

"Only because you are very understanding."

He smiled. It was odd how his eyes could both scorch and warm. Especially with a color that was closer to ice than fire. They were quite warm at the moment.

"I like you very much, Wanda."

We grew quiet.

“You hadn’t noticed?” he asked quietly.

“It doesn’t make sense,” we said with a sigh. “How do you even know which parts of us are Wanda?”

He touched his fingertips lightly to our face. “It’s… I can’t explain it.”

We looked up at him, pained. And then it came to me:

 _Oh, no_ , I said, horrified. _You’re jealous of Ian too, now?_

 _Not—_ Mel tried. _Not like that! Not for—I don’t know. Jesus Christ, Wanderer, I have no fucking idea._

"Tell me something," Ian said after a moment.

"If we know the answer."

"It's not a hard question."

He didn't ask it right away. Instead, he reached across the narrow space and picked up our hand. He held it in both of his for a moment, and then he trailed the fingers of his left hand slowly up our arm, from our wrist to our shoulder. Just as slowly, he pulled them back again. He looked at the skin of our arm rather than our face, watching the goose bumps that formed along the path of his fingers.

"Does that feel good or bad to you?" he asked.

We struggled. It—tickled. It wasn’t Jared. It was _Ian_. It was Ian touching _us_ —touching _Wanda_ , not wanting to touch _Melanie_ , who was here, who didn’t want to like it, because it wasn’t Jared, not that we wanted Jared’s touch right now, charged and exhausting and scary as it was.

"Wanda?"

“We don’t know,” we whispered.

When we could meet his eyes, they were warmer than we expected. "I can't even imagine how confusing this all must be to you."

It was comforting that he understood. "Yes. We’re confused."

His hand traced up and down our arm again. "Would you like me to stop?"

We hesitated. "Yes," we decided. "It’s… we’re… tired.”

I realized, when he smiled then, that I wanted him to like me. The rest—the hand on our face, the fingers on our arm—we still wasn't sure at all about those. But I wanted him to like me, and to think kind things about me. Me. Which is why it was hard to tell him the truth.

"You don't really feel that way about me, you know," I whispered. "It's the body... Mel’s beautiful, isn't she?"

He nodded. "She is." His hand moved to touch our bad cheek, to stroke the rough, scarring skin with gentle fingers. "In spite of what I've done to her face."

I grimaced. Why should it bother me that he thought Melanie was beautiful? It did anyway. We almost sighed.

He brushed our hair back from our forehead.

"But, pretty as she is, she's a stranger to me. She's not the one I... care about."

"Ian, you don't... Nobody here separates us the way they should. Not you, even though you understand us best.” The truth came out in a rush, more heated than I'd meant it to be. "You couldn't care about Wanderer. If you could hold me in your hand, me, you would be disgusted. You would throw me to the ground and grind me under your foot."

His pale forehead creased as his black brows pulled together. "I... not if I knew it was you."

We laughed without humor. "How would you know? You couldn't tell us apart."

His mouth turned down.

"It's just the body," I repeated.

"That's not true at all," he disagreed. "It's not the face, but the expressions on it. It's not the voice, but what you say. It's not how you look in that body, but the things you do with it. You are beautiful."

He moved forward as he spoke, kneeling beside the bed where we lay and taking our hand again in both of his.

"I've never known anyone like you."

“You don’t know me without Mel,” we said quietly.

“I do,” he told me. “You said you were only pretending that Mel wasn’t there, but that means you were suppressing the things she wanted to do, the things she wanted to say. That was _you_. And it’s still you, changed by her.”

I sighed. "Ian, what if I'd come here in Magnolia's body?"

He grimaced and then laughed. "Okay. That's a good question. I don't know.”

“It’s the body,” we repeated.

"I wouldn't want it without you."

"You wouldn't want me without it."

He touched our cheek again and left his hand there, his thumb under our jaw. "But this body is part of you, too. It's part of who you are. And, unless you change your mind and turn us all in, it's who you will always be. The two of you."

Ah, the finality of it. Yes, we would die in this body. The final death. The thought was alien, knocking us into distraction: it was strange to think of such a thing as a _final death_ , as if there were deaths that weren’t; it was strange to think about it being normal, living one lifetime in one world; about this having been always the destination.

"Another internal conversation?" Ian guessed.

"We're thinking of our mortality."

"You could live forever if you left us."

"Yes, I could." I sighed. "You know, humans have the shortest life span of any species I've ever been, except the Spiders. You have so little time."

"Don't you think, then..." Ian paused and leaned closer to us so that we couldn't seem to see anything around his face, just snow and sapphire and ink. "That maybe you should make the most of what time you have? That you should live while you're alive?"

We looked up at him. We recognized the invitation in his eyes, and we didn’t want it, but we did, and we were jealous of him, and ourselves, and our body and our parasite and we were tired, but we liked Ian. We did. We tilted our chin up.

His lips were soft and warm. He pressed them only lightly to ours. It wasn't like kissing Jared. With Jared, there was no thought, only desire. No control. A spark to gasoline—inevitable. Ian was… gentle. Unhurried. We cupped his face with a hand, his strong jaw.

"Good or bad?" he whispered against our lips.

We put our hands on his chest and shoved him away.

“I—we,” we tried, head spinning. “I don’t know. We don’t—sorry, I didn’t mean—we didn’t mean to shove you—we—“ We put our head in our hands. “Please—don’t. It’s—confusing. There’s so much. So many _layers_. I can’t… tell them apart.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He moved close again, but didn’t try to catch our hands again, and we cringed at ourselves, at the fact that it made us sad.

“We’ll just sleep for now,” we said, quiet. “It’ll make things better. Maybe.”

“We can figure things out eventually,” Ian said, and we believed him. The thought made us smile. Imagine us, one day able to make sense of this mess.

"Wanda? Mel, can I come in?"

Jamie's voice started from down the hall and, accompanied by the sound of his jogging steps, ended right outside the door.

"Of course, Jamie."

We already had our hand held out to him before he shrugged the door aside. We hadn't seen him nearly enough lately. Unconscious or crippled, we hadn't been free to seek him out.

"Hey, Wanda! Hey, Ian!" Jamie was all grins, his messy hair bouncing when he moved. He headed for our reaching hand, but Ian was in his way. So he settled for sitting on the edge of our mattress and resting his hand on our foot. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Hungry yet? There's beef jerky and corn on the cob! I could get you some."

"I'm okay for now. How are you? I haven't seen you much lately."

Jamie made a face. "Sharon gave me detention."

We smiled. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I was totally framed." His innocent expression was a bit overdone, and he quickly changed the subject. "Guess what? Jared was saying at lunch that he didn't think it was fair for you to have to move out of the room you were used to. He said we weren't being good hosts. He said you should move back in with me! Isn't that great? I asked him if I could tell you right away, and he said that was a good idea. He said you would be in here."

"I'll bet he did," Ian murmured.

"So what do you think, Wanda? We get to be roomies again!"

"But Jamie, where will Jared stay?"

"Wait—let me guess," Ian interrupted. "I bet he said the room was big enough for three. Am I right?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"So that's good, isn't it? It will be just like before we came here!"

It felt sort of like a razor sliding between our ribs when he said that—too clean and precise a pain to be compared to a blow or a break. It broke through a wall of joy, and the discord made us nauseous.

Jamie analyzed our tortured expression with alarm. "Oh. No, I mean but with you, too. It will be nice. The four of us, right?"

We tried to laugh through the pain; it didn't hurt any worse than not laughing.

Ian squeezed our hand.

"The four of us," we mumbled. "Nice."

Jamie crawled up the mattress, worming his way around Ian, to put his arms around our neck.

"Sorry. Don't be sad."

"Don't worry about it."

"You know I love you, too."

So sharp, so piercing, the emotions of this planet. Jamie had never said those words to _me_ before. Our whole body suddenly felt a few degrees warmer.

 _So sharp_ , Melanie agreed, wincing at her own pain.

"Will you two come back?" Jamie begged against our shoulder.

"If that's what you want, Jamie. Okay."

"Woo hoo!" Jamie crowed in our ear. "Cool! I'm gonna go tell Jared! I'll get you some food, too, okay?" He was already on his feet, bouncing the mattress so that we felt it in our ribs.

"Okay."

"You want something, Ian?"

"Sure, kid. I want you to tell Jared he's shameless."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Go get Wanda some lunch."

"Sure. And I'll ask Wes for his extra bed. Kyle can come back in here, and everything will be like it should be!"

"Perfect," Ian said, and though we didn't look at his face, we knew he was rolling his eyes.

"Perfect," we whispered, and felt the razor's edge again.


	11. chapter 39: WORRIED

_Perfect_ , we grumbled to ourselves. _Just perfect_.

Ian was coming to join us for lunch, a big smile glued into place on his face. Trying to cheer us up... again.

"Hey," Ian greeted, hopping up onto the counter beside us. He had a bowl of tomato soup in one hand, still steaming. Ours was beside us, cooled and half full. We were toying with a piece of roll, ripping it into tiny pieces.

We scowled at him.

"Oh, come on. They'll be back today. Before sunset, without a doubt."

"You said that three days ago, and two days ago, and again yesterday.”

"I have a good feeling about today. Don't sulk—it's so human," he teased.

"I'm not sulking." We weren’t. We were just so worried we could barely think straight. It didn’t leave us energy to do anything else.

"This isn't the first raid Jamie's gone on."

"That makes us feel so much better."

"He's got Jared and Geoffrey and Trudy with him. And Kyle's here." Ian laughed. "So there's no way they'll get into any trouble."

"We don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

He turned his attention to his food and let us stew. Ian was nice that way—always trying to give us what we wanted, even when what we wanted was unclear to either of us. His insistent attempts to distract us from the present anxiety excepted, of course. We knew we didn't want that. We wanted to worry; it was the only thing we could do.

They would never, ever let _us_ on raids.

It had been a month since we'd moved back into Jamie and Jared's room. For three weeks of that time, the four of us had lived together. Jared slept on a mattress wedged above the head of the bed where we and Jamie slept.

We'd gotten used to it—the sleeping part, at least; we were having a hard time sleeping now in the empty room. We missed the sound of two other bodies breathing.

It was strange to wake up every morning with Jared there. Strangely familiar, terribly so, but so alien. It still took us a second too long to return his morning greeting. He was not at ease, either, but he was always polite. We were both very polite.

It was almost scripted at this point.

"Good morning, Wanda, Mel, how did you sleep?"

"Fine, thank you, and you?"

"Fine, thanks. And... is Mel alright?"

"I’m good, yeah, thanks."

Jamie's constant state of euphoria and his happy chattering kept things from becoming too strained. He talked about and around us normally, unashamed about his believe and easy with how we were. Every day, things got a little bit more comfortable, the pattern of our life here a little bit more pleasant.

We were... sort of happy. Even though we had thought it wasn’t the right time, we were happy to be together again.

And then, a week ago, Jared had left for another short raid—mostly to replace broken tools—and taken Jamie with him.

"You tired?" Ian asked.

We realized we were rubbing at our eyes. "Not really."

"Still not sleeping well?"

"It's too quiet."

"Maybe you should take the afternoon off."

"Don't be silly," we told him. "We've got plenty of energy for work. We’d just stew in misery even more."

He grinned as though we’d said something that pleased him. Something he'd been hoping we would say.

"Good. I could use some help with a project."

"What's the project?"

"I'll show you—you finished there?"

We nodded.

He took our hand as he led us out of the kitchen.

"Why are we going this way?" The eastern field did not need attention. We'd been part of the group that had irrigated it this morning.

Ian didn't answer. He was still grinning.

He led us down the eastern tunnel, past the field and into the corridor that led to only one place. As soon as we were in the tunnel, we could hear voices echoing and a sporadic thud, thud that it took us a moment to place. The stale, bitter sulfur odor helped link the sound to the memory.

“Soccer?”

"You said you had plenty of energy."

We bit our lips.

"I promised Lily and Wes a game of two-on-two. They worked so hard this morning to free up the afternoon..."

"Don't try to make us feel guilty," we said as we rounded the last curve. We could see the blue light of several lamps, shadows flitting in front of them.

"Isn't it working?" he teased. "C'mon. It will be good for you."

He pulled us into the low-ceilinged game room, where Lily and Wes were passing the ball back and forth across the length of the field.

"Hey, Wanda. Hey, Ian," Lily called to us.

"This one's mine, O'Shea," Wes warned him.

"You're not going to let me lose to Wes, are you?" Ian murmured.

"You could beat them alone."

"It would still be a forfeit. I'd never live it down."

We sighed. "Fine. Fine. Be that way."

Ian hugged us. "You're my very favorite person in the known universe. People."

"Thanks," we muttered dryly.

"Ready to be humiliated, Wanda?" Wes taunted. "You may have taken the planet, but you're losing this game."

Ian laughed, but we wanted to cringe. We didn’t though—excitement was cursing through us already.

We hadn’t gotten to play last time. We yearned, suddenly, to run—to run for pleasure rather than in fear. Running was something we used to love. Doing nothing wouldn’t get them home any faster… a distraction might be nice. We started thinking strategy, sizing up our opponents.

"Do you know the rules?" Lily asked us.

We nodded. "I remember them."

Absently, we bent our leg at the knee and grabbed our ankle behind us, pulling it to stretch out the muscles. It was a familiar position to our body. We stretched the other leg and was pleased that it felt whole. The bruise on the back of our thigh was faded yellow, almost gone. Our side felt fine, which made us think that our rib had never really been broken.

We'd seen our face while we were cleaning mirrors two weeks ago. The scar forming on our cheek was dark red and as big as the palm of our hand, with a dozen jagged points around the edges. It bothered us.

"I'll take the goal," Ian told us, while Lily fell back and Wes paced beside the ball. A mismatch.

 _Nice_ , Mel said, grinning.

From the moment the game started—Wes kicking the ball back to Lily and then sprinting ahead to get around us for her pass—there was very little time to think. Only to react and to feel. See Lily shift her body, measure the direction this would send the ball. Cut Wes off—ah, but he was surprised by how fast we were—launch the ball to Ian and move up the field. Lily was playing too far forward. We raced her to the lantern goalpost and won. Ian aimed the pass perfectly, and we scored the first goal.

It felt good: the stretch and pull of muscle, the sweat of exertion rather than plain heat, the teamwork with Ian. We were well matched. We were quick and his aim was deadly. Wes's goading dried up before Ian scored the third goal.

Lily called the game when we hit twenty-one. She was breathing hard. So were us—healing and general inactivity had made us soft. But our muscles were limber and strong, and we didn’t breath hard for long.

Wes wanted another round, but Lily was done.

"Face it, they're better."

"We got hustled."

"No one ever said she couldn't play."

"No one ever said she was a pro, either."

We smiled.

"Don't be a sore loser," Lily said, reaching out to tickle Wes's stomach playfully. He caught her fingers and pulled her closer to him. She laughed, tugging away, but Wes reeled her in and planted a solid kiss on her laughing mouth.

We and Ian exchanged a quick, startled glance.

"For you, I will lose with grace," Wes told her, and then set her free.

Lily's smooth caramel skin had taken on a bit of pink on her cheeks and neck. She peeked at Ian and me to see our reaction.

"And now," Wes continued, "I'm off to get reinforcements. We'll see how your little ringer does against Kyle, Ian." He lobbed the ball into the far dark corner of the cave, where we heard it splash into the spring.

Ian trotted off to retrieve it, while we continued to look at Lily curiously.

She laughed at our expression, sounding self-conscious, which was unusual for her. "I know, I know."

"How long has... that been going on?" we wondered.

She grimaced.

"Not my business. Sorry."

"It's okay. It's not a secret—how could anything be a secret here, anyway? It's just really... new to me. It's sort of your fault," she added, smiling to show that she was teasing us.

We felt a little guilty anyway. And confused. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," she assured us. "It was Wes's... reaction to you that surprised me. I didn't know he had so much depth to him. I was never really aware of him before that. Oh, well. He's too young for me, but what does that matter here?" She laughed again. "It's strange how life and love go on. I didn't expect that."

"Yeah. Kind of funny how that happens," Ian agreed. We hadn't heard him return. He slung his arm around our shoulders. "It's nice, though. You do know Wes has been infatuated with you since he first got here, right?"

"So he says. I hadn't noticed."

Ian laughed. "Then you're the only one. So, Wanda, how about some one-on-one while we're waiting?"

We smiled again. "Okay."

He let us have the ball first, holding back, hugging the goal area. Our first shot cut between him and the post, scoring. We rushed him when he kicked off, and got the ball back. We scored again.

 _He's letting us win_ , Mel grumbled.

"Come on, Ian. Play."

"I am."

“Badly. On purpose. Start taking this seriously.”

He laughed, and we slipped the ball away from him again. The taunt wasn't enough. We had an inspiration then, and we shot the ball through his goal, guessing it would probably be the last time we got to do it.

We put the ball back at center field. "You win, I’ll tell Jared to his face that you’re more handsome.”

He grinned widely.

"First to ten." With a grunt, he launched the ball past us so hard that it rebounded off the distant, invisible wall behind our goal and came back to us.

We looked at Lily. "Was that wide?"

"No, it looked dead center to me."

"One-three," Ian announced.

It took him fifteen minutes to win, but at least we got to really work. We even squeezed in one more goal, of which we were proud. We were gasping for air when he stole the ball from us and sailed it through our goalposts for the last time.

"Ten-four, I win," he gasped, winded.

"Good game," we huffed.

"I wonder what's taking Wes so long?" Ian muttered, looking around. "Should we go find out? I could use some water."

"Me, too," we agreed.

"Bring some back." Lily didn't move from where she was half sprawled on the floor.

As we entered the narrow tunnel, Ian threw one arm lightly around our waist.

"That's nice about Wes and Lily, don't you think?" he said.

"Yes. They both seem very happy."

"I like it, too. Wes finally got the girl. Gives me hope." He winked to let us know he was mostly joking.

We heard Wes shouting at the same time. His voice came from the end of the tunnel, getting closer with each word.

"They're back! Wanda, they're back!"

It took us less than a second to process, and then we were sprinting. We nearly knocked Wes down.

"Where?" we gasped.

"In the plaza."

And we were off again. We flew into the big garden room with our eyes already searching. It wasn't hard to find them. Jamie was standing at the front of a group of people near the entrance to the southern tunnel.

"Hey, Wanda, Mel!" he yelled, waving.

Trudy held his arm as we ran around the edges of the field, as if she were holding him back from running to meet us.

We grabbed his shoulders with both hands and pulled him to us. "Oh, Jamie!"

"Did ya miss me?"

"Just a tiny bit. Where is everyone? Is everyone home? Is everyone okay?" Besides Jamie, Trudy was the only person here who was back from the raid. Everyone else in the little crowd—Lucina, Ruth Ann, Kyle, Travis, Violetta, Reid—was welcoming them home.

"Everyone's back and well," Trudy assured us.

Our eyes swept the big cave. "Where are they?"

"Uh... getting cleaned up, unloading..."

We wanted to offer our help—anything that would get us to where Jared was so we could see with our own eyes that he was safe—but we knew we wouldn't be allowed to see where the goods were coming in.

"You look like you need a bath," we told Jamie, rumpling his dirty, knotted hair without letting go of him.

"He's supposed to go lie down," Trudy said.

"Trudy," Jamie muttered, giving her a dark look.

Trudy glanced at us quickly, then looked away.

"Lie down...?" we stared at Jamie, pulling back to get a good look at him. He didn't seem tired—his eyes were bright, and his cheeks flushed under his tan. Our eyes raked over him once and then froze on his right leg.

There was a ragged hole in his jeans a few inches above his knee. The fabric around the hole was a dark reddish brown, and the ominous color spread in a long stain all the way to the cuff.

 _Blood_ , we realized with horror.

"Jamie! What happened?"

"Thanks, Trudy."

"She was going to notice soon enough. C'mon, we'll talk while you limp."

Trudy put her arm under his and helped him hop forward one slow step at a time, keeping his weight on his left leg.

"Jamie, tell us what happened. Now." We put our arm around him from the other side, trying to carry as much of his weight as we could.

"It's really stupid. And totally my fault. And it could have happened here."

"Tell us."

He sighed. "I tripped with a knife in my hand."

We shuddered. "Shouldn't we be taking you the other way? You need to see Doc."

"That's where I'm coming from. That's where we went first."

"What did Doc say?"

"It's fine. He cleaned it and bandaged it and said to go lie down."

"And have you walk all this way? Why didn't you stay in the hospital?"

Jamie made a face and glanced up at Trudy, like he was looking for an answer.

"Jamie will be more comfortable on his bed," she suggested.

"Yeah," he agreed quickly. "Who wants to lie around on one of those awful cots?"

We looked at them and then behind us. The crowd was gone. We could hear their voices echoing back down the southern corridor.

 _What was that about?_ Mel wondered warily.

It occurred to us that Trudy wasn't a very good liar. When she'd said the others from the raid were unloading and cleaning up, there was a false note to her voice. We thought we remembered her eyes flickering to the right, back toward that tunnel.

"Hey, kid! Hey, Trudy!" Ian had caught up to us.

"Hi, Ian," they greeted him at the same time.

"What happened here?"

"Fell on a knife," Jamie grunted, ducking his head.

Ian laughed.

"I don't think it's funny," we told him, our voice tight.

"Could happen to anybody," Ian said, planting a light punch on Jamie's arm.

"Right," Jamie muttered.

"Where's everybody?"

We watched Trudy from the corner of my eye as she answered him.

"They, uh, had some unloading to finish up." This time her eyes moved toward the southern tunnel very deliberately, and Ian's expression hardened, turned enraged for half a second. Then Trudy glanced back at us and caught us watching.

 _Distract them_ , we thought.

We looked down at Jamie quickly.

"Are you hungry?" we asked him.

"Yeah."

"When aren't you hungry?" Ian teased. His face was relaxed again. He was better at deception than Trudy.

When we reached our room, Jamie sank gratefully onto the big mattress.

"You sure you're okay?" we checked.

"It's nothing. Really. Doc says I'll be fine in a few days."

We nodded, though we weren’t convinced.

"I'm going to go clean up," Trudy murmured as she left.

Ian propped himself against the wall, going nowhere.

"Ian?" we asked, looking up at him with an even of an expression as we could muster. "Do you mind getting us some food? We’re hungry, too."

"Yeah. Get us something good."

Ian’s eyes were firm. We remembered him back at Walter’s grave, the wall he had been.

 _Round and round_ , I thought.

"Okay," he agreed. "I'll be back in just a second." He emphasized the short time, and quickly left.

"You aren't mad at me?" Jamie asked.

"Of course not."

"I know you guys didn't want me to go."

"You're safe now; that's all that matters." We patted his arm absentmindedly. Then we got to our feet. "I'll be right back—I forgot something I wanted to tell Ian."

"What?" he asked, confused by our tone.

"You'll be okay here by yourself?"

"Course I will," he retorted, sidetracked.

We ducked out around the screen before he could ask anything else.

The hall was clear, Ian out of sight. We had to hurry. We knew he was already suspicious. He'd noticed that we'd noticed Trudy's awkward and artificial explanation. He wouldn't be gone long.

We walked quickly, but didn't run, as we moved through the big plaza. Purposeful, as if we were on an errand. There were only a few people there—Reid, headed for the passageway that led to the bathing pool; Ruth Ann and Heidi, paused by the eastern corridor, chatting; Lily and Wes, their backs to us, holding hands. No one paid us any attention. We stared ahead as if we were not focused on the southern tunnel, only turning in at the very last second.

As soon as we were in the pitch-black of the corridor, we sped up, jogging along the familiar path.

Some instinct told us this was the same thing—that this was a repeat of the last time Jared and the others had come home from a raid, and everyone was sad, and Doc had gotten drunk, and no one would answer our questions. It was happening again, whatever we weren’t supposed to know about. What we didn't want to know about, according to Ian. We felt prickles on the back of our neck. Maybe we didn't want to know.

 _Yes, we do_ , Mel said.

 _I'm_ _afraid,_ I whispered.

_Yeah._

We ran as quietly as we could down the dark tunnel.


	12. chapter 40: HORRIFIED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')  
> (This is an important chapter! Please tell me your thoughts on it. They are much appreciated!)

We slowed when we heard the sound of voices. We weren’t close enough to the hospital for it to be Doc. Others were on their way back. We pressed ourselves against the rock wall and crept forward as quietly as we could. Our breathing was ragged from running. We covered our mouth with our hand to stifle the sound.

"... why we keep doing this," someone complained.

We weren’t sure whose voice it was. Someone we didn't know well. Maybe Violetta? It held that same depressed tone that we recognized from before. It erased any notion that we'd been imagining things.

"Doc didn't want to. It was Jared's idea this time."

We were sure that it was Geoffrey who spoke now, though his voice was a little changed by the subdued revulsion in it. Geoffrey had been with Trudy on the raid, of course. They did everything together.

"I thought he was the biggest opponent to this business."

That was Travis, we guessed.

"He's more... motivated now," Geoffrey answered. His voice was quiet, but we could tell he was angry about something.

They passed just half a foot from where we cringed into the rocks. We froze, holding our breath.

"I think it's sick," Violetta muttered. "Disgusting. It's never going to work."

They walked slowly, their steps weighted with despair.

No one answered her. No one spoke again in our hearing. We stayed motionless until their footsteps had faded a little, but we couldn't wait until the sound disappeared completely. Ian might be following us already.

We crept forward as quickly as we could and then started jogging again when we decided it was safe.

We saw the first faint hints of daylight streaming around the curving tunnel ahead, and we shifted into a quieter lope that still kept us moving swiftly. We knew that once we were around the gradual arc, we would be able to see the doorway into Doc's realm. We followed the bend, and the light grew brighter.

We moved cautiously now, putting each foot down with silent care. It was very quiet. For a moment, we wondered if we were wrong and there was no one here at all. Then, as the uneven entrance came into view, throwing a block of white sunlight against the opposite wall, we could hear the sound of quiet sobbing.

We tiptoed right to the edge of the gap and paused, listening.

The sobbing continued. Another sound, a soft, rhythmic thudding, kept time with it.

"There, there." It was Jeb's voice, thick with some emotion. "'S okay. 'S okay, Doc. Don't take it so hard."

Hushed footsteps, more than one set, were moving around the room. Fabric rustling. A brushing sound. It reminded us of the sounds of cleaning.

There was a smell that didn't belong here. Strange... not quite metallic, but not quite anything else, either. The smell was not familiar—we were sure we had never smelled it before—and yet we had an odd feeling that it should be familiar to us. To me.

We were afraid to move around the corner.

 _What's the worst they will do to us?_ Mel pointed out. _Make us leave?_

_Right._

Things had definitely changed if that was the worst we could fear from the humans now.

We took a deep breath—noticing again that strange, wrong smell—and eased around the rocky edge into the hospital.

No one noticed us.

Doc was kneeling on the floor, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving. Jeb leaned over him, patting his back.

Jared and Kyle were laying a crude stretcher beside one of the cots in the middle of the room. Jared's face was hard—the mask had come back while he was away.

The cots were not empty, as they usually were. Something, hidden under dark green blankets, filled the length of both of them. Long and irregular, with familiar curves and angles...

Doc's homemade table was arranged at the head of these cots, in the brightest spot of sunlight. The table glittered with silver-shiny scalpels and an assortment of antiquated medical tools that we couldn't put a name to.

Brighter than these were other silver things. Shimmering segments of silver stretched in twisted, tortured pieces across the table. Tiny silver strands plucked and naked and scattered. Splatters of silver liquid smeared on the table, the blankets, the walls...

Our scream shattered the quiet like a bullet to glass.

We tripped back, almost falling, eyes wide: we couldn’t stop looking. We couldn’t stop seeing. The silver. All the silver. It shone like precious stone.

Someone shouted for us, but we couldn't hear whose voice it was. The screaming was too loud. It hurt our head. The stone wall, oozing silver, slammed into us, and we fell to the floor. Heavy hands held us there. We remembered Mel’s father bringing death to our door. There was death at our door again.

We buckled under our own horror.

"Doc, help!"

"What's wrong with her?"

"Is it having a fit?"

"What did she see?"

"Nothing—nothing. The bodies were covered!"

That was a lie! The bodies were hideously uncovered, strewn in obscene contortions across the glittering table. Mutilated, dismembered, tortured bodies, ripped into grotesque shreds. We had clearly seen the vestigial feelers still attached to the truncated anterior section of a child. Just a child! A baby! A baby thrown haphazardly in maimed pieces across the table smeared with its own blood...

Our stomach rolled like the walls were rolling, and acid clawed its way up our throat.

"Wanda? Can you hear me? Melanie?"

"Is she conscious?"

"I think she's going to throw up."

The last voice was right. Hard hands held our head while the acid in our stomach violently overflowed.

"What do we do, Doc?"

"Hold on to her—don't let her hurt herself."

We coughed and squirmed, trying to escape. Our throat cleared.

"Let us go!" we were finally able to choke out. The words were garbled, but our voice was loud. "Get away from us! Get away; you're monsters! Torturers!"

We shrieked wordlessly again, twisting against the restraining arms. We remembered the deserts, the newspapers, the children. _The children._

"Calm down, Wanda! Mel! Shh! It's okay!" That was Jared's voice. For once, it didn't matter that it was Jared.

“Shut the _fuck up!_ ” we screamed, scrambling to get away from him. Our eyes were wide, we didn’t want to believe this. We didn’t. “ _You!_ It was your idea! You monster! They were right about us,” we sobbed—Mel sobbed, too wrapped up in my grief to say anything else, “they were _right_ , look at what you’ve done. _Look at this._ You butchered them. You didn’t kill them—you _butchered them_.”

"She's hysterical," Doc told him. "Hold on."

A sharp, stinging blow whipped across our face.

There was a gasp, far away from the immediate chaos.

"What are you doing?" Ian roared.

"It's having a seizure or something, Ian. Doc's trying to bring it around."

Our ears were ringing, but not from the slap. It was the smell—the smell of the silver blood dripping down the walls—the smell of the blood of souls. The room writhed around us as though it were alive. The light twisted into strange patterns, curved into the shapes of monsters from our past. A Vulture unfurled its wings... a claw beast swung its heavy pincers toward our face... Doc smiled and reached for me with silver trickling from his fingertips...

The room spun once more, slowly, and then went black.

Unconsciousness didn't claim us for long. It must have been only seconds later when our head cleared. We were all too lucid; we wished we could stay oblivious longer.

We were moving, rocking back and forth, and it was too black to see. Mercifully, the horrible smell had faded. The musty, humid air of the caves was like perfume.

The feeling of being carried, being cradled, was familiar. That first week after Kyle had injured us, we'd traveled many places in Ian's arms.

"... thought she'd have guessed what we were up to. Looks like I was wrong," Jared was murmuring.

"You think that's what happened?" Ian's voice cut hard in the quiet tunnel. "That she was scared because Doc was trying to take the other souls out? That she was afraid for herself?"

Jared didn't answer for a minute. "You don't?"

Ian made a sound in the back of his throat. "No. I don't. As disgusted as I am that you would bring back more... victims for Doc, bring them back now!—as much as that turns my stomach, that's not what upset her. How can you be so blind? Can't you imagine what that must have looked like to her in there?"

"I know we had the bodies covered before—"

"The wrong bodies, Jared. Oh, I'm sure Wanda would be upset by a human corpse—she's so gentle; violence and death aren't a part of her normal world. But think what the things on that table must have meant to her."

It took him another moment. "Oh."

"Yes. If you or I had walked in on a human vivisection, with torn body parts, with blood splattered on everything, it wouldn't have been as bad for us as it was for her. We'd have seen it all before—even before the invasion, in horror movies, at least. I'd bet she's never been exposed to anything like that in all her lives."

We were getting sick again. His words were bringing it back. The sight. The smell.

"Let us go," we whispered. "Put us down."

"We didn't mean to wake you. I'm sorry." The last words were fervent, apologizing for more than waking us.

"Let us _go_."

"You're not well. I'll take you to your room."

"Put us down _now!_ " we screamed. We thrashed in his hold—he cursed and let us go, and we fell into a crouch on the floor.

We sprang up from the crouch running.

"Wanda!"

"Let her go."

"Don't touch me! Wanda, come back!"

It sounded like they were wrestling behind us, but we didn't slow. Of course they were fighting. They were humans. Violence was pleasure to them.

We didn't pause when we were back in the light. We sprinted through the big cavern without looking at any of the monsters there. We could feel their eyes on us, and we didn't care.

We didn't care where we were going, either. Just somewhere we could be alone. We avoided the tunnels that had people near them, running down the first empty one we could find.

It was the eastern tunnel. This was the second time we'd sprinted through this corridor today. Last time in joy, this time in horror. It was hard to remember how we’d felt this afternoon, knowing the raiders were home. Everything was dark and gruesome now, including their return. The very stones seemed evil.

This way was the right choice for us, though. No one had any reason to come here, and it was empty.

We ran to the farthest end of the tunnel, into the deep night of the empty game room. Could we really have played games with them such a short time ago? Believed the smiles on their faces, not seeing the beasts underneath?

We moved forward until we stumbled ankle deep into the oily waters of the dark spring. We backed away, our hand outstretched, searching for a wall. When we found a rough ridge of stone, sharp-edged beneath our fingers, we turned into the depression behind the protrusion and curled ourselves into a tight ball on the ground there.

And finally there was silence.

We stewed in grief and horror, breathing hard, our knuckles white. We were digging bloody half-moons into our palms.

 _They’re trying to survive_ , Mel said, trying to push through my horror—but it was like trying to swim against a tsunami. _They’re afraid, they think—what if it’s them next—they just want to live—_

 _They_ butchered _them!_ I wailed, terrified, terrified out of my fucking mind. _That’s cruelty! That’s not survival!_

_Doc isn’t cruel! You said it yourself, he wouldn’t hurt anyone if he didn’t have to!_

I imagined the bodies at the table and sobbed, clutching at our chest. It hurt. For Doc, souls weren’t _people_. In his grief, people like me didn’t _count._

 _You don’t know what it’s like_ , Mel said fervently. _They were—too hard—but it’s—how do we—how do we say they can’t? Survival is—it’s—stop wailing so much! Listen to me!_

 _A baby,_ I cried. _A baby._ And I pictured it just to hurt her: a human child on that cold table, the blood red instead of silver; Doc with a scalpel slicing them bit by bit. It wound me more than her, but it wound her. She recoiled from it and we gagged again, our very body refusing the images.

 _Wanderer_ , Mel cried. _Wanda, I—_

A human child would have screamed, so I made them scream. I filled the hospital with screams.

 _Stop!_ Mel begged.

_You stop! **Get out of my head!**_

I shoved at her, I tried to bind her, I tried to gag her, I wanted to be alone—I wanted to not have a human in my mind, in my _brain_ , in my _self_ —I did my best, clawing at her with bloody fingers.

We howled in sheer agony.

We gripped at our hair with bloody fists, ripping it out of our scalp, and screamed. It hurt like nothing else, trying to separate one of us from the other, like it would have hurt to dig fingers into our torso to try and carve out an organ. Our voice filled the room like something physical—and stopped just as suddenly.

We cried, quiet, small sobs, and grew silent. We recoiled into ourselves like children clutching each other in the dark. We didn’t want to even think about what we had tried to do. We didn’t want to consider what success would have been like. We held ourselves in the corner of this room and shut our eyes tightly.

_Jared wants us on that table._

The thought hit us like a slap. We doubled over again, vomiting on the ground beside us. Our head rolled with horror. Jared wanted Wanderer on that table, cut to tiny, tiny pieces. Mutilated. Gone. Our horror was so manifold, layered with so many things, that we recoiled into our grief. It was easier than this. It was easier than to think about _this._

We could not mourn in human ways for these lost souls whose names we would never know. For the broken child on the table.

We had never had to mourn on the Origin. We didn't know how it was done there, in the truest home of souls. So we settled for the way of the Bats. It seemed appropriate, here where it was as black as being blind. The Bats mourned with silence—not singing for weeks on end until the pain of the nothingness left behind by the lack of music was worse than the pain of losing a soul. We'd known loss there. A friend, killed in a freak accident, a falling tree in the night, found too late to save him from the crushed body of his host. Spiraling... Upward... Harmony; those were the words that would have held his name in this language. Not exact, but close enough. There had been no horror in his death, only grief. An accident.

The bubbling stream was too discordant to remind us of our songs. We could grieve beside its harmony-free clatter.

We wrapped our arms tightly around our shoulders and mourned for the child and the other soul who had died with it. Our siblings. Our family. And we grieved for our humans, too. Our monsters. How it hurt to love them. How it hurt to be them, to even understand why they had done what they had done. We felt monstrous, too.

But our grief was stolen from us. Our screaming had called them right to our door. They rushed to us.

"She's in here after all! Call off the search!"

We knew the voice, but didn't put a name to it.

"Wanda? Wanda? Are you all right?"

We raised our heads to them, but couldn’t see, in the dark, who it was.

"Where's Ian?"

"Should we get Jamie, do you think?"

"He shouldn't be on that leg."

Jamie. We shuddered at his name. Our Jamie. He was wounded. He needed us. He was a monster too. Like all humans. Like we were.

"Where is she?"

"Over here, Jared. She's not... responding."

"We didn't touch her."

"Here, give me the light," Jared said. "Now, the rest of you, get out of here. Emergency over. Give her some air, okay?"

There was a shuffling noise that didn't travel far.

"Seriously, people. You're not helping. Leave. All the way out."

The shuffling was slow at first, but then became more productive. We could hear many footsteps fading away in the room and then disappearing out of it.

Jared waited until it was silent again.

"Okay, Wanda, Mel, it's just you and me."

He waited for some kind of answer.

"Look, I guess that must have been pretty... bad. We never wanted you to see that. I'm sorry."

 _Sorry?_ Geoffrey'd said it was Jared's idea. He wanted to cut us out of this body, slice us into little pieces, fling our blood on the wall. He'd slowly mangle a million of us if he could find a way to keep a part of us alive with him. Slash us all to slivers. We shivered at the thought.

He was quiet for a long time, still waiting for us to react.

"You look like you want to be alone. That's okay. I can keep them away, if that's what you want."

We didn't move.

Something touched our shoulder. We froze.

“Mel,” he whispered. “Mel. You know I’m just… I was just trying to save you.”

Our traitorous mouth opened, but we clicked it shut again. We couldn’t begin to tell him the agony of being told that in the end, it was all our fault.

We heard him stand, and the light—red behind our closed eyes—began to fade as he walked away.

He met someone in the mouth of the cave.

"Where is she?"

"She wants to be alone. Let her be."

"Don't get in my way again, Howe."

"Do you think she wants comfort from you? From a human?"

"I wasn't party to this—”

Jared answered in a lower voice, but we could still hear the echoes. "Not this time. You're one of us, Ian. Her enemy. Did you hear what she said in there? She was screaming _monsters_. That's how she sees us now. She doesn't want your comfort."

"Give me the light."

They didn't speak again. A minute passed, and we heard one set of slow footsteps moving around the edge of the room. Eventually, the light swept across us, turning our lids red again.

We huddled ourselves more tightly together, expecting him to touch us.

There was a quiet sigh, and then the sound of him sitting on the stone, not as close beside us as we would have expected.

With a click, the light disappeared.

We waited in the silence for a long time for him to speak, but he was just as silent as we were.

Finally, we stopped waiting and returned to our mourning. Ian did not interrupt. We sat in the blackness of the big hole in the ground.


	13. chapter 41: VANISHED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something to keep us all occupied now we're all basically stuck at home......

Ian sat with us for three days in the darkness.

He left for only a few short minutes at a time, to get us food and water. At first, Ian ate, though we did not. Then, as he realized that it wasn't a loss of appetite that left our tray full, he stopped eating, too.

We used his brief absences to deal with the physical needs that we could not ignore, thankful for the proximity of the odorous stream. As our fast lengthened, those needs vanished.

We couldn't keep from sleeping, but we did not make ourselves comfortable. The first day, we woke to find our head and shoulders cradled on his lap. We recoiled from him, shuddering so violently that he did not repeat the gesture. After that, we slumped against the stones where we were, and when we woke, we would curl back up into our silent ball at once.

"Please," Ian whispered on the third day—at least we thought it was the third day; there was no way to be sure of the passing time in this dark, silent place. It was the first time he'd spoken.

We knew a tray of food was in front of us. He pushed it closer, ‘till it touched our leg. We cringed away.

"Please, Wanda. Mel. Please eat something."

He put his hand on our arm but moved away quickly when we flinched out from under it.

"Please don't hate me. I'm so sorry. If I'd known... I would have stopped them. I won't let it happen again."

He would never stop them. He was just one among many. And, as Jared had said, he'd had no objections before. We were the enemy. Even in the most compassionate, humankind's limited scope of mercy was reserved for their own—he may think he liked Wanderer, but who knew how he would act once Jared got his wish—once he had the body without the parasite?

We knew Doc could never intentionally inflict pain on another person. We doubted he would even be capable of watching such a thing, tender as his feelings were. But a worm, a centipede? Why would he care about the agony of a strange alien creature? Why would it bother him to murder a baby—slowly, slicing it apart piece by piece—if it had no human mouth to scream with?

"I should have told you," Ian whispered.

Would it have mattered if we had simply been told rather than having seen the tortured remains for ourselves? Would the pain be less strong? Honestly—probably. But maybe this was better. There was no running from this. There was no excusing it.

"Please eat."

The silence returned. We sat in it for a while, maybe another hour.

Ian got up and walked quietly away.

We could make no sense of our emotions. In that moment, we hated being what we were. How did it make sense that we didn’t want him to go? Why should it pain us to be alone like we wanted to be? We wanted him back, monster or not.

We weren’t alone for long. We didn't know if Ian had gone to get him or if he'd been waiting for Ian to leave, but we recognized Jeb's contemplative whistle as it approached in the darkness.

The whistling stopped a few feet from us, and there was a loud click. A beam of yellow light burned our eyes. We blinked against it, lights dancing in the dust.

Jeb set the flashlight down, bulb up. It threw a circle of light on the low ceiling and made a wider, more diffuse sphere of light around us.

Jeb settled himself against the wall beside us.

"Gonna starve yourselves, then? Is that the plan?"

We stared at the stone floor.

We knew our mourning was over. We had grieved. We hadn’t known the child or the other soul in the cave of horrors. We could not grieve for strangers forever.

No. Now we were angry.

"You wanna die, there are easier and faster ways."

As if we weren’t aware of that. We turned our bland stare to him and he sighed.

“Girls, we’re not giving you to Doc,” he said. “I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You won’t,” we said, our voice coming out a disused croak. “Not yet.”

"Did you expect us to just give up, Wanderer?" Jeb's voice was stern and more serious than we had ever heard it before. "We have a stronger survival instinct than that. Of course we want to find a way to get our minds back. It could be any one of us someday. So many people we love are already lost.

"It isn't easy. It nearly kills Doc each time he fails—you've seen that. But this is our reality, Wanda. This is our world. We've lost a war. We are about to be extinct. We're trying to find ways to save ourselves."

For the first time, Jeb spoke to Wanda as if Wanda were a soul and not a human. We had a sense that the distinction had always been clear to him, though. He was just a courteous monster. We couldn’t deny the truth of his words, anyway—but then, we had understood this from the beginning. Understanding had only made it all worse.

The thing was… we weren’t just a soul.

“Hacking up babies won’t save anyone, Uncle Jeb,” we said, quiet. “Now they’re all dead.”

He paused for a moment. "We can't tell your young from your old."

"We know that."

"Your kind don't spare our babies."

Our voice grew even fainter. “We don’t butcher them.”

“You _erase_ them. That’s worse.”

But our words had clearly hit him. His eyebrows were low over his eyes. We knew he wouldn’t mutilate the souls if it weren’t necessary, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t do it.

“We have to try. We have to keep fighting,” he told them, shaking his head. “It's the only way we know. It's keep trying or turn our faces to the wall and die." He raised one eyebrow at us.

That must have been what it looked like we were doing.

“Jared is going to get us under that knife,” we said. “He’s going to hack at us until he has what he wants. He’s going to keep trying, and he’s going to convince you to let him. We understand that’s what will happen. It doesn’t matter how much we try, how much we give him, how much we do.”

Jeb was frowning. He didn’t understand what was happening anymore—who was talking, and about what precisely.

“Wanda, we’re not letting Jared to that to you.”

We took the water bottle Ian had left close to our foot. We drained it in one long pull.

“It will never work, Uncle Jeb,” we said, giving him a laconic smile. “You can keep cutting us out in pieces, but you'll just murder more and more people. We do not willingly kill, but our bodies are not weak, either. Our attachments may look like soft silver hair, but they're stronger than organs. That's what's happening, isn't it? Doc slices up the souls and their limbs shred through the brains of the hosts."

"Like cottage cheese," he agreed, slow.

We gagged and then shuddered at the image.

"It makes me sick, too," he admitted. "Doc gets real bent out of shape. Every time he thinks he's got it cracked, it goes south again. He's tried everything he can think of, but he can't save them from getting turned into oatmeal. Your souls don't respond to injected sedation... or poison."

Our voice came out rough with new horror. "Of course not. The chemical makeup is completely different."

"Once, one of yours seemed to guess what was going to happen. Before Doc could knock the human out, the silver thingy tore up his brain from the inside. Course, we didn't know that until Doc opened him up. The guy just collapsed."

We were surprised, strangely impressed. That soul must have been very brave. We had not had the courage to take that step, even in the beginning when we were sure they were going to try to torture this very information from us. We didn't imagine they would try to slash the answer out for themselves; that course was so obviously doomed to failure, it had never occurred to us.

"Uncle Jeb, we are relatively tiny creatures, utterly dependent on unwilling hosts. We wouldn't have lasted very long if we didn't have some defenses."

"I'm not denying that your kind have a right to those defenses. I'm just telling you that we're gonna keep fighting back, however we can. We don't mean to cause anyone pain. We're makin' this up as we go. But we will keep fighting."

We looked at each other.

“Girls,” he said almost carefully, “who exactly am I talking to right now?”

We closed our eyes and pressed our palms against them until our vision burst with color.

“We’re so fucking tired of this question,” we muttered. “It would be easier, wouldn’t it? Wanderer never witnessed this kind of thing, and she’s a soul, and she doesn’t want to die. Mel is more used to it, and she’s human, and she would want her body back. It would be so simple. Maybe all this is just Wanda, horrified, hiding. Mel would understand, wouldn’t she?”

“I thought she would,” Jeb said quietly.

Maybe—but _Jared_ wanted _Wanderer_ on that table.

“This situation is only going to get worse. It’s not going to get better. Bodies aren’t supposed to work like this. The host isn’t supposed to _stay_.”

He frowned. “What exactly is happening with you two?”

“Maybe you should have Doc slice us up and find out,” we said with a smile. “It’s the only thing we’re good for here.”

"Now, now. Don't be silly,” he said, shaking his head. “We humans aren't so logical as all that. We have a greater range of good and bad in us than you do. Well, maybe mostly the bad."

We nodded at that, but he kept going, ignoring us.

"We value the individual. We probably put too much emphasis on the individual, if it comes right down to it. The way you are valued here... Well, that don't make much sense when you look at it from humanity's perspective, either. But there's some who would value you above a human stranger. Have to admit, I put myself in that group. I count you as a friend, Wanda. And you’re my niece, Mel. Course, that's not gonna work well if you hate me."

"We don't hate you, Uncle Jeb. But..."

"Yeah?"

"We don't see how we can live here anymore. Not if you're going to be slaughtering our family in the other room. And we can't leave, obviously. So you see what we mean? What else is there for us but Doc's pointless cutting?" we shuddered. “Jared may even get what he wants.”

He nodded seriously. "Now, that's a real valid point. It's not fair to ask you to live with that."

Our stomach dropped. "If we get a choice, we'd rather you shot us, actually," we whispered.

Jeb laughed. "Slow down there, honey. Nobody's shooting my friends, or hackin' ' em up. I know you're not lying. If you say doing it our way isn't going to work, then we're going to have to rethink things. I'll tell the boys they're not to bring any more souls back for now. Besides, I think Doc's nerves are toast. He can't take much more of this."

"You could be lying," we said with a shrug.

"You'll have to trust me, then. Because I'm not going to shoot you. And I'm not going to let you starve yourself, either. Eat something, kid. That's an order."

“We were grieving,” we told him. “The bats grieve with silence. We couldn’t grieve like humans.”

“Do bats starve themselves?”

“Sort of,” we said vaguely. Jeb picked up a thick square of cornbread soaked through with stolen honey and shoved it into our hand. We admired it for a moment. “We starved ourselves of song until the pain of it was worse than the pain of loss.”

The cornbread made a mess of our fingers, crumbling into gluey morsels that stuck to our skin. We sighed and started cleaning them off with our tongue.

"That's a girl! We'll get over this rough spot.”

Ian came back then. When he walked into our circle of light and saw the food in our hand, the look that spread across his face filled us with guilt. It was a look of joyous relief. We immediately stamped down on the guilt. Ian didn’t deserve it.

"Here you are, Jeb," he said in a subdued voice as he sat down across from us, just slightly closer to Jeb. "Jared guessed you might be here."

We dragged ourselves half a foot toward him anyway, our arms aching from being motionless so long.

Ian had done this monstrous thing in the past, but now he hadn’t wanted to now. We tried to keep that in mind.

He swallowed nothing. "I’m sorry. This should have stopped. It's different with you here."

But our being here had only made it that much more important to solve the problem. How to rip Wanderer out and keep Melanie here. How to erase one to bring the other back.

Melanie didn’t need to be brought back. She was right here.

"Now." Jeb took a deep breath as our gazes snapped to him. "Try not to freak out again, okay?"

We froze.

Ian threw an anxious glance at Jeb.

"You're going to tell them?" Ian asked.

We understood it at once, because it couldn’t be anything else.

“Jamie,” we said hollowly.

“Yeah,” Jeb said.

The world turned upside down again.

We jumped to our feet and Ian stood up as if yanked by a chain connecting him to us. We swayed, our head spinning.

"Sheesh. I said don't freak out. Jamie's okay. He's just really anxious about you. He heard what happened, and he's been asking for you—worried out of his mind, that kid is—and I don't think it's good for him. I came down here to ask you to go see him. But you can't go like this. You look horrible. It will just upset him for no good reason. Sit down and eat some more food."

"His leg?" we demanded.

"There's a little infection," Ian murmured. "Doc wants him to stay down or he'd have come to get you a long time ago. If Jared wasn't practically pinning him to the bed, he would have come anyway."

Jeb nodded. "Jared almost came here and carried you out by force, but I told him to let me speak to you first. It wouldn't do the kid any good to see you catatonic."

Our blood felt as though it had changed into ice water. Surely just our imagination.

"What's being done?"

Jeb shrugged. "Nothin' to do. Kid's strong; he'll fight it off."

"Nothing to do? What do you mean?"

"It's a bacterial infection," Ian said. "We don't have antibiotics anymore."

"Because they don't work—the bacteria are smarter than our medicines. There has to be something better, something else."

"Well, we don't have anything else," Jeb said. "He's a healthy kid. It just has to run its course."

"Run... its... course." We murmured the words in a daze.

"Eat something," Ian urged. "You'll worry him if he sees you like this."

We rubbed our eyes, trying to think straight.

Jamie was sick. There was nothing to treat him with here. No options but waiting to see if his body could heal itself. And if it couldn't...

"No," we gasped.

We felt as if we were standing on the edge of Walter's grave again, listening to the sound of sand falling into the darkness.

"No," we moaned, fighting against the memory.

We turned mechanically and started walking with stiff strides toward the exit.

"Wait," Ian said, but kept pace with us.

Jeb caught up to us on the other side and shoved more food into our free hand.

"Eat for the kid's sake," he said.

We bit into it without tasting, chewed without thinking, swallowed without feeling the food go down.

"Knew they were gonna overreact," Jeb grumbled.

"So why did you tell them?" Ian asked, frustrated.

Jeb didn't answer. We wondered why he didn't. Was this worse even than we imagined?

"Is he in the hospital?" we asked in an emotionless, inflectionless voice.

"No, no," Ian assured quickly. "He's in your room."

We didn't even feel relief. Too numb for that.

We would have gone into that room again for Jamie, even if it was still reeking of blood.

We didn't see the familiar caves we walked through. We barely noticed that it was day. We couldn't meet the eyes of any of the humans who stopped to stare at us. We could only put one foot in front of the other until we finally reached the hallway.

There were a few people clustered in front of the seventh cave. The silk screen was pushed far aside, and they craned their necks to see into Jared's room. They were all familiar, people we had considered friends. Jamie's friends, too. Why were they here? Was his condition so unstable that they needed to check on him often?

"Wanda," someone said. Heidi. "Wanda's here."

"Let her through," Wes said. He slapped Jeb on the back. "Good job."

We walked through the little group without looking at them. They parted for us; we might have walked right into them if they hadn't. We couldn't concentrate on anything but moving forward.

It was bright in the high-ceilinged room. The room itself was not crowded. Doc or Jared had kept everyone out. We were vaguely aware of Jared, leaning against the far wall with his hands clasped behind him—a posture he assumed only when he was really worried. Doc knelt beside the big bed where Jamie lay, just where we’d left him.

We’d left him.

Jamie's face was red and sweaty. The right leg of his jeans had been cut away, and the bandage was peeled back from his wound. It wasn't as big as we had expected. Not as horrible as we would have imagined. Just a two-inch gash with smooth edges. But the edges were a frightening shade of red, and the skin around the cut was swollen and shiny.

"Wanda, Mel," Jamie exhaled when he saw us. "Oh, you're okay. Oh." He took a deep breath.

We stumbled and fell to our knees beside him, dragging Ian down with us. We touched Jamie's face and felt the skin burn under our hand. Our elbow brushed Doc's, but we barely noticed. He scooted away, but we didn't look to see what emotion was on his face, whether it was aversion or guilt.

"Jamie, how are you?"

"Stupid," he said, grinning. "Just plain stupid. Can you believe this?" He gestured to his leg. "Of all the luck."

We found a wet rag on his pillow and wiped it across his forehead.

“We told you not to go on the raid,” we said with a scowl. “We _said_ —but no, you had to prove you were a big boy. Look at this damn mess. You almost deserve it for being such a shithead.”

He grinned up at us. “Next time you should come with, Mel, to make sure I’m alright!”

"You're going to be fine," we muttered, surprised at how fierce our voice sounded even so.

"Of course. It's nothing. But Jared wouldn't let me come talk to you." His face was suddenly anxious. "I heard about... and Wanda, you know I—"

"Shh. Don't even think of it.”

“You know I don’t…”

Our covered his hand with our shaky one.

“If we'd had any idea you were sick we would have been here sooner," we told him with an equally shaky smile. We didn’t want to think about Jamie— _our Jamie_ —knowing about all this.

"I'm not really sick. Just a stupid infection. I'm glad you're here, though. I hated not knowing how you were."

We couldn't swallow down the lump in our throat.

"So I heard you schooled Wes the day we got back," Jamie said, changing the subject with a wide grin. "Man, I wish I could have seen that! I bet you loved it, Mel."

"Yes, we did," we said, unthinking, then winced. “I—did.”

"You okay? Not too worried?"

"Of course we’re damn worried," we hissed. “I—of course I worry! Both of us. Look, we—it’s been a tiring few days. I’m worried out of my goddamn skull, do you understand? You’re not leaving these caves again until you’re _thirty_. You’re keeping us company. Forever. You’re grounded forever.”

He grinned up at us.

"I'll get you some food," Ian said. "You hungry, kid?"

"Ah... no, not really."

Our expression fell and we fought to get it back to something smoother. Jamie was always hungry.

"Send someone else," we told Ian, gripping his hand tighter.

"Sure." His face was smooth, but we could sense both surprise and worry. "Wes, could you get some food? Something for Jamie, too. I'm sure he'll find that appetite by the time you get back."

We measured Jamie's face. He was flushed, but his eyes were bright. He would be okay for a few minutes if we left him here.

"Jamie, do you mind if I go wash my face? I feel sort of... grimy."

He frowned at this, probably because he hadn’t thought we would want to leave his side. "Course not."

We pulled Ian up with us again as we rose. "I'll be right back. I mean it this time."

He smiled at our weak joke.

We felt someone's eyes on us as we left the room. Jared's or Doc's, we didn't know. We didn't care.

Only Jeb still stood in the hallway now; the others had gone, reassured, perhaps, that Jamie was doing okay. Jeb's head tilted to the side, curious, as he tried to figure out what we were doing. He was surprised to see us leave Jamie's side so soon and so abruptly. He, too, had heard the sham in our excuse.

We hurried past his inquisitive gaze, towing Ian with us.

We dragged Ian back through the room where the tunnels to all the living quarters met in a big tangle of openings. Instead of keeping on toward the main plaza, we pulled him into one of the dark corridors, picking at random. It was deserted.

"Wanda, what—"

"We need to do something, Ian." Our voice was strained, frantic.

"Whatever you need. You know that."

We grabbed him by his shirt, towing him closer. He was taller than us by just a bit. His eyes were very blue.

“We have to save Jamie,” we said. “ _We have to_. Somehow. There has to be another way!”

“What are you two _doing?_ ” Jared’s voice echoed through the tunnel.


	14. chapter 42: FORCED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like it :)

"Mel, Wanda, what's this about?" Jared asked again when no answer came.

We swallowed nothing, hands still clutching at Ian. We didn’t want to see Jared right now with such a force that it was an effort not to drag Ian bodily between us. We thought of the hospital, and the table, and the knife, and _it was Jared’s idea this time. He’s more… motivated._

“Nothing,” we whispered weakly.

“We’re just talking,” Ian said with a shrug. “Why don’t you run along, Howe? We’ll call you if we need you.”

“You two—three—aren’t coming up with some kind of stupid plan, are you?” Jared asked, eyes narrowing to slits. He walked closer with heavy, echoing steps, and we flinched.

Ian looked down at us, eyebrows furrowed, and seemed to finally notice our white-knuckled grip on him.

“It’s alright,” he reassured, even though he didn’t know what exactly had us like this.

We watched Jared approaching like a rat unable to look away from a cobra.

“ _You_ need to go back to Jamie’s side,” Jared said when he got close enough. “What on Earth do you think you’re doing, leaving him again so soon? The kid was half mad with worry for you!”

“We need to do something,” we said, our voice coming out weak. “We can’t just let a bacterial infection _run its course_. We can’t—”

“I’ve _tried_ ,” Jared snapped. He was clearly worried about Jamie, too, and his temper was rearing its ugly head. “I went on raids, I was the one out there while you were hiding in a hole feeling sorry about yourself!”

We stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“Howe,” Ian said, a warning.

“Sorry,” we repeated, voice almost a whisper, “sorry about ourselves.”

Jared’s hands closed in fists, but a guilt flush rose to his face. He was too close; we were caged between him and Ian and the wall with nowhere to go, and we felt a wave of goosebumps rise along our back like a frightened cat.

“Look, we need to think about Jamie now,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “What _he needs_ is to have _his sister_ by his side.”

“Do you think Mel will ever forgive you?” we asked quietly, eyes wide and unblinking. “After you put us on that table and cut Wanderer out of this body piece by piece, do you think Mel will ever forgive you?”

Jared snarled, at his wits end. “Melanie wants her body _back!_ ”

“I want you to _not kill Wanderer!_ ” we snarled back, hands so tight on Ian that we must have been hurting. “Mel—Melanie—we don’t want this! _Fuck you, Jared_. You think Melanie is _changed_ right now, you think she’s being absorbed by Wanderer, that this is a mess, that you need to fix this, separate us, to _save me_ , but what do you think is going to happen?”

“Hey, you two, just calm down,” Ian tried, setting his hands softly on our shoulders.

“She’s going to wake up on that table with Wanderer in _pieces_ splattered on the fucking _walls_ and she is going to _hate you,_ ” we hissed, hateful. “You think I’m going to go back to being your perfect girlfriend, as if none of this had happened? You think she’s going to wake up and be _relieved?_ We’ll never forgive you! We’ll never want to see your _fucking face again!_ ”

“Hey!” Ian shouted, shaking us harshly until we snapped away from our anger and blinked up at him instead, confused. “Calm down! You two aren’t making any _sense_. You’re speaking—you’re mixing your words, speaking in plural or _only_ in third person, you need to—you need to calm down!”

We panted, not having realized how much we needed to breathe.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Jared demanded. “ _Now_.”

“Shut up,” Ian snapped—but he was still facing us, gentle and sad, like a child who had broken something fragile and had no idea how to fix it. “Mel, can I… can I talk to Wanda? Alone? Just for a second?”

We stared at up at him, uncomprehending.

“I… we don’t…” we tried, then all at once let go of him.

Ian let us go easily. We flattened ourselves against the rock of the tunnel, shoving our hands into our eyes.

“We—can’t,” we choked out. We didn’t _want to._

 _Maybe if we stay like this there’s no separating us, even if they succeed_ , we thought fiercely. _Maybe then Wanderer can survive this._

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Jared asked, still and calm in that way he got when he was furious and terrified out of his damn mind.

“ _Shut up_ ,” we hissed. He was _too close._ We reached out and grabbed Ian’s arm again, just to—to have something, and kept one palm pressing against one ye.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” Jared exploded.

We flinched.

“Hey, just—take a step back, alright?” Ian said, lifting a hand but not using it to shove Jared away. “They’re still shaken with what they saw, it’s normal for them to be afraid.”

“They’re not afraid of _you_ ,” Jared snapped. “So what’s the _problem?_ ”

“It was _your idea_ ,” we snapped right back, shoulders curling in for all that we were scowling at him. “Your plan! You’re more _motivated now_. You want to kill me! You want to hack at me, to kill me piece by piece!”

“Wanda?” Ian asked, relieved.

“I’m not—” we tried, and flinched even though no one moved. We looked down, fingers digging into our skin, our hair. We didn’t want to think about this. We didn’t want to be doing this. We should have stayed with Jamie. “We’re not—I can’t—”

“Mel?” Jared asked, afraid. “Mel, are you there? Are you still here?”

“Mel is _here_ , she’s always _been here_ ,” we muttered, too exhausted to shout.

“No,” Jared said, fierce. He reached out—but didn’t take our hand, giving us a bit of space. “No third person, Mel _._ Talk to me, please. I can’t lose you again. I can’t—even if you’re still _sort of_ here, with—with Wanda. I want _you_. Please,” he whispered, touching just a fingertip to our cheek, careful. Soft. “Please, Mel. Talk to me, just you, alone, just a second. I… I promise I won’t hurt her. Wanderer. I promise. I won’t ever hurt her again. I won’t—I won’t try to take her out of there. Alright?”

It hurt. It hurt us in so many ways. His touch hurt, and his words, his love for Mel and his distaste for Wanderer, the desperation in his eyes, how exhausted he looked, everything we knew about him. We felt woozy with it, with everything. We hadn’t slept, we hadn’t eaten. Jamie needed us. There was so much to think about. Our vision was blurry from our pressing against our eyes. This body, this mind, they weren’t meant to withstand all of this.

But it was impossible for us not to give this man what he wanted. Even now. After everything. Even me.

When we tipped forward and started to fall, Jared caught us.

“Don’t hurt her,” Mel begged, too changed by me not to cry, not to be too soft—softer than she wanted to be. She pressed her face to his chest and sobbed when he wrapped his arms around her, dropping to his knees on the ground in sheer relief. He buried his nose in her hair. “I can’t lose anyone else, Jared. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her. If _you’re_ the one to blame. I don’t know what I’ll _do._ ”

“Mel,” he said, so relieved that he sounded fifteen years younger. “ _Melanie._ ”

“Wanda?”

We didn’t notice Ian had knelt as well until he whispered it. I looked over Jared’s shoulder at him and extended a hand, which he caught gratefully, squeezing it. I gave him a weak smile.

It hurt, being caught between Mel and Jared. It hurt, being apart from her like this, like it had been easier on this body, this existence, to be more one person than not. But relief still cut through us like a knife, sharp and hot.

 _I don’t want to be erased_ , Mel said, terrified.

 _Me neither_ , I said, voice small.

"I'm warning you, Mel," Jared whispered, hugging us tighter. "You better stay right here. You better stop this nonsense. I'm not making any guarantees about what I will or won't do to get you back."

We didn’t answer. Ian muttered something unsavory under his breath.

“You two… is it really impossible to let just one of you through?” Ian asked quietly.

We blinked at him, squeezing his hand again. Ian always wanted to understand.

“It’s hard,” I whispered. “It’s like trying to stop your heart from beating. I can’t make myself not exist. I was mostly gone, in the beginning,” Mel added, thoughtful and tired enough to say it out loud. “It was like… like being air. Air trapped in a bubble. I couldn’t get out, it was hard to focus… and then the desert…”

“The desert?” Jared asked.

“We almost died,” we reminded him, “and it didn’t matter…”

“Who was starving,” Ian completed quietly, “because both of you were.”

Jared held us tighter, and stood up with us in his arms. We squeezed our eyes shut against our nausea and our fear, knuckles white with how tightly we were holding onto Ian. It was monstrous to love Jared so badly and to be so terrified of him.

“I don’t know if they should go to Jamie like this,” Ian said with a frown. “Maybe it wouldn’t be good for the kid. They should get some rest…”

“Shut up,” we said. “Try to keep us from Jamie.”

Ian sighed, affectionate. He tugged at a strand of our hair with his free hand.

“You ass,” he said.

Jared started walking suddenly, almost dislodging our hold on Ian. He would take us to Jamie, we knew. Jared loved him too.

We were so exhausted we didn’t even care that we hadn’t managed to talk to Ian about coming up with a plan to save Jamie. We just wanted to be near our brother.


	15. chapter 43: FRENZIED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and so! I've finished rewriting The Host all to the end, which is why you see I've settled the chapter count (I finally got to the end and saw how many chapters the book actually has lol). I'm going to try and settle an actual schedule for posting now that it's all written. Maybe once a week? What do you guys think?  
> I'll write beyond canon, but I don't know what that will look like yet. Fortunately I have time before we all get there to figure it out.  
> By the time I post the next chapter, I'll have a schedule in mind, so I'll tell you what it is then.  
> For now, I hope you like this chapter! :)

We imagined that from the outside, we looked as still as a statue. Our hands were folded in front of us, our face was without expression, our breathing was too shallow to move our chest.

Inside, we were spinning apart, as if the pieces of our atoms were reversing polarity and blowing away from one another.

There was nothing we could do.

The hall outside our room was crowded. Jared, Kyle, and Ian were back from their desperate raid, empty-handed. A cooler of ice—that was all they had to show for three days of risking their lives. Trudy was making compresses and laying them across Jamie's forehead, the back of his neck, his chest.

Even if the ice cooled the fever, raging out of control, how long until it was all melted? An hour? More? Less? How long until he was dying again?

We would have been the one to put the ice on him, but I couldn't move. If I moved, I would fall into microscopic pieces.

"Nothing?" Doc murmured. "Did you check—”

"Every spot we could think of," Kyle interrupted. "It's not like painkillers, drugs—lots of people had reason to keep those hidden. The antibiotics were always kept in the open. They're gone, Doc."

Jared just stared down at the red-faced child on the bed, not speaking.

Ian stood beside us. "Don't look like that," he whispered. "He'll pull through. He's tough."

We couldn't respond. Couldn't even hear the words, really.

Doc knelt beside Trudy and pulled Jamie's chin down. With a bowl he scooped up some of the ice water from the cooler and let it trickle into Jamie's mouth. We all heard the thick, painful sound of Jamie's swallowing. But his eyes didn't open.

I felt as though I would never be able to move again. That we would turn into part of the stone wall. I wanted to be stone.

If they dug a hole for Jamie in the empty desert, they would have to put me in it, too.

“You have to go back out,” Melanie said, her fury audible even though our expression was bland. “Jamie won’t die. You have to try again.”

“We’ve done everything we can,” Jared said.

“The antibiotics wouldn’t be enough,” I said, our voice dropping to despair again. “What are the chances they would still be any good? They only worked half the time anyway…”

“We won’t find them,” Kyle repeated, annoyed.

Mel scowled, eyes flashing in fury up at him. “You won’t find anything useful! He doesn’t need this—the stuff we had, inferior and malfunctioning, he needs something that really works!”

“Like _what?_ ” the man snapped.

Our expression smoothed with shock as the obvious answer came to us. It seemed so _clear._

“He needs mine,” I said, voice faint with wonder. “He needs soul medicine.”

We were awestruck by the obviousness of this idea. The simplicity of it.

Doc frowned at me. "We don't even know what those things do, how they work."

"Does it matter?" we snapped; I was waking up enough that Mel’s fury infected me, seeped into my words as I spoke. "They do work. They can save him!"

Jared stared at us. We could feel Ian's eyes on us, too, and Kyle's, and all the rest in the room. But we saw only Jared.

"We can't get 'em," Jeb said, his tone already one of defeat. Giving up. "We can only get into deserted places. There's always a bunch of your kind in a hospital. Twenty-four hours a day. Too many eyes. We won't do Jamie any good if we get caught."

"Sure," Kyle said in a hard voice. "The centipedes will be only too happy to heal his body when they find us here. And make him one of them. Is that what you're after?"

Jamie gone, a stranger wearing his face. The image was so violent that we flinched from Kyle, for all that we turned to glare at him too.

When we spoke, our voice was dead even, no inflection. "There has to be a way."

Jared was nodding. "Maybe someplace small. The gun would make too much noise, but if there were enough of us to overwhelm them, we could use knives."

"No!" Our arms came unfolded, our hands falling open in shock. “That's not what I meant! Not killing—"

No one even listened to us. Jeb was arguing with Jared.

"There's no way, kid. Somebody'd get a call off to the Seekers. Even if we were in and out, something like that would bring 'em down on us in force. We'd be hard-pressed to make it out at all. And they'd follow."

"Wait. Can't you—"

They still weren't listening.

"I don't want the boy to die, either, but we can't risk everyone's lives for one person," Kyle said. "People die here; it happens. We can't get crazy to save one boy."

We wanted to choke him, to cut off his air in order to stop his calm words. The violence surged through us, travelling through our body in a wave of goosebumps. It came from me, from Mel, from us, building upon each other and itself and becoming bigger and bigger. It made us snarl at him, our muscles tensing as if readying for a fight. Ian put a hand on our shoulder as we leaned forward, as if to keep us from jumping at his brother.

"We have to save him," we said. “Humans value the individual. _You_ said that, Jeb. We need to get him this.”

Jeb looked at us. "Hon, we can't just walk in there and ask."

Right then, another very simple and obvious truth occurred to us.

"You can't. But I can."

The room fell dead silent.

We were caught up in the beauty of the plan forming in our head. The perfection of it. We spoke mostly to ourselves. This would work. We could save Jamie. Our rage fled us in a snap, leaving us dizzy.

"They aren't suspicious. Not at all. Even if I'm a horrible liar, they would never suspect me of anything. They wouldn't be listening for lies. Of course not. I'm one of them. They would do anything to help me. I'd say I got hurt hiking or something... and then I'd find a way to be alone and I'd take as much as I could hide. Think of it! I could get enough to heal everyone here. To last for years. And Jamie would be fine! Why didn't I think of this before? Maybe it wouldn't have been too late even for Walter."

We looked up then, with shining eyes. It was just so perfect!

So perfect, so absolutely right, so obvious to us, that it took us forever to understand the expressions on their faces. If Kyle's had not been so explicit, it might have taken me longer.

Hatred. Suspicion. Fear.

Even Jeb's poker face was not enough. His eyes were tight with mistrust.

Every face said _no_.

 _This would help everyone, not only Jamie!_ Mel raged at the unfairness of it. _I can’t believe even Jeb—do they really think we would do anything to hurt Jamie?_

It was like they had pierced a dagger through my heart. Mine. It was me bringing those expressions to their faces, bringing mistrust to the minds of even those who had grown to like me.

"Please," I whispered. "It's the only way to save him."

"Patient, isn't it?" Kyle spit. "Bided its time well, don't you think?"

"Doc?" we begged.

He didn't meet our eyes. "Even if there was any way we could let you outside, Wanda... I just couldn't trust drugs I don't understand. Jamie's a tough kid. His system will fight this off."

"We'll go out again, Wanda," Ian murmured. "We'll find something. We won't come back until we do."

"That's not good enough." The tears were pooling in our eyes, but our expression was fervent with Mel’s swell of fierce, furious emotion. We looked to the one person who might possibly be in as much pain as we were. "Jared. You know. You know I would never let anything hurt Jamie. You know I can do this. Please."

He met our gaze for one long moment. Then he looked around the room, at every other face. Jeb, Doc, Kyle, Ian, Trudy. Out the door at the silent audience whose expressions mirrored Kyle's: Sharon, Violetta, Lucina, Reid, Geoffrey, Heath, Heidi, Andy, Aaron, Wes, Lily, Carol. Our friends mixed in with our enemies, all of them wearing Kyle's face. He stared at the next row, which we couldn't see. Then he looked down at Jamie. There was no sound of breathing in the whole room.

"No, Wanda," he said quietly. "No."

A sigh of relief from the rest.

Our knees buckled. We fell forward and yanked free of Ian's hands when he tried to pull us back up. We crawled to Jamie and shoved Trudy aside with our elbow. The silent room watched. We took the compress from his head and refilled the melted ice. We didn't meet the stares we could feel on our skin. We couldn't see anyway. The tears swam in front of our eyes.

"Jamie, Jamie, Jamie," I crooned. "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie," Mel cried.

We couldn't seem to do anything but sob out his name and touch the packets of ice over and over, waiting for the moment they would need changing.

We heard them leave, a few at a time. We heard their voices, mostly angry, fade away down the halls. We couldn't make sense of the words, though.

_Jamie, Jamie, Jamie..._

"Jamie, Jamie, Jamie..."

Ian knelt beside us when the room was almost empty.

"I know you wouldn't... but Wanda, Mel, they'll kill you if you try," he whispered. "After what happened... in the hospital. They're afraid you have good reason to destroy us... Anyway, he'll be all right. You have to trust that."

We turned our face from him, and he went away.

Even Ian, who loved us, hadn’t stood up for us.

"Sorry, kid," Jeb mumbled when he left.

Even Jeb, our friend, our uncle, hadn’t believed us.

Jared left. We didn't hear him go, but we knew when he was gone. That seemed right to us. He didn't love Jamie the way we did. He had proved that. He should go.

Doc stayed, watching helplessly. We didn't look at him. We were tired of Doc’s pointless pain.

The daylight faded slowly, turned orange and then gray. The ice melted and was gone. Jamie started to burn alive under our hands.

"Jamie, Jamie, Jamie..." Our voice was cracked and hoarse now, but we couldn't stop. "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie..."

We had to do something, but not even Mel could stand against the force of my despair and resignation. It was my fault. Jamie would die and it would be my fault, because the humans refused to trust _me._

 _Even Jared_ , Mel said, the words filled with pain. _Jared didn’t believe us._

 _Even Jared_ , I repeated, but for me that wasn’t so shocking; I knew too deeply just how much Jared was capable of causing us grief.

The room turned black. We couldn't see Jamie's face. Would he leave in the night? Had we already seen his face, his living face, for the last time?

His name was just a whisper on our lips now, low enough that we could hear Doc's quiet snoring.

We wiped the tepid cloth across his body without ceasing. As the water dried, it cooled him a little. The burn lessened. We began to believe that he wouldn't die tonight. But we wouldn't be able to hold him here forever. He would slip away from us. Tomorrow. The next day. And then we would die, too. We would not live without Jamie.

It was still silent. We didn't hear anything. Nothing alerted us.

Then, suddenly, Doc cried out. The sound was oddly muffled, like he was shouting into a pillow.

We stared up, trying to make sense of the shapes in the darkness at first. Doc was jerking strangely. And he seemed too big—like he had too many arms. It was terrifying. We leaned over Jamie's inert form, to protect him from whatever was happening. We could not flee while he lay helpless. Our heart pounded against our ribs. Our body felt like a live wire, ready to spring if something touched us.

Then the flailing arms were still. Doc's snore started up again, louder and thicker than before. He slumped to the ground, and the shape separated. A second figure pulled itself away from his and stood in the darkness.

"Let's go," Jared whispered. "We don't have time to waste."

 _Oh,_ we thought.

He believed.

Relief crashed onto us, making us nearly double from the pain of it. But we jumped to our feet instead, forcing our stiff knees to unbend.

"What did you do to Doc?"

"Chloroform. It won't last long."

We turned quickly and poured the warm water over Jamie, soaking his clothes and the mattress. He didn't stir. Perhaps that would keep him cool until Doc woke up.

"Follow me."

We were on his heels. We moved silently, almost touching, almost running but not quite. Jared hugged the walls, and we did the same.

He stopped when we reached the light of the moon-bright garden room. It was deserted and still.

We could see Jared clearly for the first time. He had the gun slung behind his back and a knife sheathed at his waist. He held out his hands, and there was a length of dark fabric in them. We understood at once.

The whispered words raced out of my mouth. "Alright—yes. Blindfold us."

He nodded, and we closed our eyes while he tied the cloth over them. We would keep them closed anyway. Anything to make this easier.

The knot was quick and tight. When he was done, we spun ourselves in a fast circle—once, twice...

His hands stopped us. "That's okay," he said. And then he gripped us harder and lifted us off the ground. We gasped in surprise as he threw us against his shoulder, groaning. We folded there, our head and chest hanging over his back, beside the gun. His arms held our legs against his chest, and he was already moving. We bounced as he jogged, our face brushing against his shirt with each stride. Our skin tingled at how much of us we had touching him.

We had no sense of which way we were going; we didn't try to guess or think or feel. we concentrated only on the bouncing of his gait, counting steps. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three...

We could feel him lean as the path took him down and then up. We tried not to think about it.

Four hundred twelve, four hundred thirteen, four hundred fourteen...

We knew when we were out. We smelled the dry, clean breeze of the desert. The air was hot, though it had to be close to midnight.

He pulled us down and set us on my feet.

"The ground is flat. Do you think you can run blindfolded?"

"Yes."

He grabbed our elbow tightly in his hand and took off, setting a rigorous pace. It wasn't easy. He caught us time and time again before we could fall. We started to get used to it after a while, and we kept my balance better over the tiny pits and rises. We ran until we were both gasping.

"If... we can get... to the jeep... we'll be in... the clear."

The jeep? We felt a strange wave of nostalgia. Mel hadn't seen the jeep since the first leg of that disastrous trip to Chicago, hadn't known it had survived.

"If we... can't?" we asked.

"They catch us... they'll kill you. Ian's... right about... that part."

We tried to run faster. Not to save our life, but because we were the only ones who could save Jamie's. We stumbled again.

 _You’re the only one_ , Mel corrected me, quiet.

"Going to... take off the blindfold. You'll be... faster."

"You sure?"

"Don't... look around. 'Kay?"

"Promise."

He yanked at the knots behind our head. As the fabric fell away from our eyes, we focused them only on the ground at our feet.

It made a world of difference. The moonlight was bright, and the sand was very smooth and pale. Jared dropped his arm and broke into a faster stride. We kept up easily now. Distance running was familiar to our body. We settled into our preferred stride. Just over a six-minute mile, on a guess. We couldn't keep up that pace forever, but we'd run ourselves into the ground trying.

"You hear... anything?" he asked.

We listened. Just two sets of running feet on the sand; just the three of us running.

"No."

He grunted in approval.

We guessed this was the reason he'd stolen the gun. They couldn't stop us from a distance without it.

It took about an hour more. We was slowing then, and so was he. Our mouth burned for water.

We'd never looked up from the ground, so it startled us when he put his hand over our eyes. We faltered, and he pulled us to a walk.

"We're okay now. Just ahead..."

He left his hand over our eyes and tugged us forward. We heard our footsteps echo off something. The desert wasn't as flat here.

"Get in."

His hand disappeared.

It was nearly as dark as it was with him covering our eyes. Another cave. Not a deep one. If we turned around, we would be able to see out of it. We didn't turn.

The jeep faced into the darkness. It looked just the same as we remembered it. We swung ourselves over the door into the seat.

Jared was in his seat already. He leaned over and tied the blindfold over our eyes again. We held still to make it easier.

The noise of the engine scared us. It seemed too dangerous. There were so many people who shouldn't find us now.

We moved in reverse briefly, and then the wind was blasting our face. There was a funny sound behind the jeep, something that didn't fit our memories.

"We're going to Tucson," he told us. "We never raid there—it's too close. But we don't have time for anything else. I know where a small hospital is, not too deep into town."

"Not Saint Mary's?"

He heard the alarm in my voice. "No, why?"

"I know someone there."

He was quiet for a minute. "Will you be recognized?"

"No. No one will know our face. We don't have... wanted people. Not like you did."

"Okay."

But he had us thinking now, thinking about our appearance. Before we could voice our concerns, he took our hand and folded it around something very small.

"Keep that close to you."

"What is it?"

"If they guess that you're... with us, if they're going to... put someone else in Mel's body, you put that in your mouth and bite down on it hard."

"Poison?"

"Yes."

We thought about that for a moment. And then I laughed; I couldn't help it. Our nerves were frayed with worry.

"It's not a joke," he said angrily. "If you can't do it, then I have to take you back."

"No, no, I can." I tried to get a hold of ourselves. "I know I can. That's why I'm laughing."

His voice was harsh. "I don't get the joke."

"Don't you see? For millions of my own kind, I've never been able to do that. Not for my own... children. I was always too afraid to die that final time. But I can do it for one alien child." We laughed again. "It doesn't make any sense. Don't worry, though. I can die to protect Jamie."

"I'm trusting you to do just that."

It was silent for a moment, and then we remembered what we looked like.

"Jared, I don't look right. For walking into a hospital."

"We've got better clothes stashed with the... less-conspicuous vehicles. That's where we're headed now. About five more minutes."

That wasn't what we meant, but he was right. These clothes would never do. We waited to talk to him about the rest. We needed to look at ourselves first.

The jeep stopped, and he pulled off the blindfold.

"You don't have to keep your eyes down," he told us when our head ducked automatically. "There's nothing here to give us away. Just in case this place was ever discovered."

It wasn't a cave. It was a rock slide. A few of the bigger boulders had been carefully excavated, leaving clever dark spaces under them that no one would suspect of housing anything but dirt and smaller rocks.

The jeep was already lodged in a tight space. We was so close to the rock, we had to climb over the back of the jeep to get out. There was something odd attached to the bumper—chains and two very dirty tarps, all ragged and torn.

"Here," Jared said, and led the way to a shadowy crevice just a little shorter than he was. He brushed aside a dusty, dirt-colored tarp and rifled through a pile hiding behind it. He pulled out a T-shirt, soft and clean, with tags still attached. He ripped those off and threw the shirt to us. Then he dug until he found a pair of khaki pants. He checked the size, then flipped them to us, too.

"Put them on."

We turned our backs to him and yanked our ragged shirt over our head. We replaced it as quickly as our fumbling fingers could manage.

"Oh. I'll, uh, get the car." His footsteps moved away.

He sounded embarrassed. It almost made us laugh; as if he had never seen this body naked before.

We stripped off our tattered cutoff sweats and pulled the crisp new pants into place. Our shoes were in bad shape, but they weren't that noticeable. Besides, comfortable shoes weren't always easy to come by. We could pretend we had an attachment to this pair.

Another engine came to life, quieter than the jeep's. We turned to see a modest, unremarkable sedan pull out of a deep shadow under a boulder. Jared got out and chained the tattered tarps from the jeep to this car's rear bumper. Then he drove it to where we stood, and as we saw the heavy tarps wipe the tire tracks from the dirt, we comprehended their purpose.

Jared leaned across the seat to open the passenger door. There was a backpack on the seat. It lay flat, empty. We nodded to ourselves. Yes, we would need this.

"Let's go."

"Hold on," we said.

We crouched to look at ourselves in the side mirror.

Not good. We flipped our shoulder-length hair over our cheek, but it wasn't enough. We touched our cheek and bit our lip. Our face.

"Jared. I can't go in with my face like this." We pointed to the long, jagged scar across our skin.

"What?" he demanded.

"No soul would have a scar like this. They would have had it treated. They'll wonder where I've been. They'll ask questions."

His eyes widened and then narrowed. "Maybe you should have thought of this before I snuck you out. If we go back now, they'll think it was a ploy for you to learn the way out."

"We're not going back without medicine for Jamie." Our voice was hard as a rock.

His voice got harder to match it. "What do you propose we do, then, Wanda?"

"We'll need a rock." We sighed. "You're going to have to hit us."


	16. chapter 44: HEALED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! So, I've thought of a posting schedule. New chapters will be posted every MONDAY and THURSDAY! That makes it so the last chapter will be posted on the first of May. I'm considering rewriting the first chapters so we'll have the full book rewritten, but we'll see how that goes after the first of May comes.  
> I'm going to write at least a few pieces set after-canon and am considering writing some other pieces exploring parts of soul society, other planets, other characters... after-canon I'll only post after I'm done posting canon, but the other pieces I might post whenever I write them. Stay tuned! Hope you like this chapter :)

"Mel..."

"We don't have time. I'd do it myself, but I can't get the angle right. Stop being a pussy."

"I don't think I can... do it."

"Not even for Jamie?" We pushed the good side of our face as hard as we could against the headrest of the passenger seat and closed our eyes.

Jared was holding the rough fist-sized stone we'd found. He'd been weighing it in his hand for five minutes.

"You just have to get the first few layers of skin off. C’mon, we have to hurry! Do it now and make it a good one!"

Silence.

"Jared!"

He took a deep breath, a gasp. We felt the air move and squeezed our eyes tighter.

It made a squishing sound and a thud—that was the first thing we noticed—and then the shock of the blow wore off, and we felt it, too.

"Ungh," we groaned. We hadn't meant to make any sound. We knew that would make it worse for him. But we couldn’t keep it in. Tears sprang up in our eyes and we coughed to hide a sob. Our head rang, vibrated in aftershock.

"Wanda? Mel? I'm sorry!"

His arms wrapped around us, pulled us into his chest.

"'S okay," we whimpered. "We're okay. Did you get it all?"

His hand touched our chin, turned our head. We froze like a deer in headlights.

"Ahh," he gasped, sickened. "I took half your face off. I'm so sorry."

"No, that's good. Let's go."

"Right." His voice was still weak, but he leaned me back into our seat, settling us carefully, and then the car rumbled beneath us.

Ice-cold air blew in our face, shocking us, stinging our raw cheek. We'd forgotten what air-conditioning felt like.

We opened our eyes. We were driving down a smooth wash-smoother than it should have been, carefully altered to be this way. It snaked away from us, coiling around the brush. We couldn't see very far ahead.

We pulled the visor down and flipped open the mirror. In the shadowy moonlight, our face was black and white. Black all across the right side, oozing down my chin, dripping across our neck, and seeping into the collar of our new, clean shirt.

Our stomach heaved.

"Good job," I whispered.

"How much pain are you in?"

"Not much," we lied. "Anyway, it won't hurt much longer. How far are we from Tucson?"

Just then, we reached pavement. Funny how the sight of it made our heart race in panic. Jared stopped, keeping the car hidden in the brush. He got out and removed the tarps and chains from the bumper, putting them in the trunk. He got back in and eased the car forward, checking carefully to make sure the highway was empty. He reached for the headlights.

"Wait," we whispered. We couldn't speak louder. We felt so exposed here. "Let us drive."

He looked at us.

"It can't look like we walked to the hospital like this. Too many questions. We have to drive. You hide in the back and tell me where to go. Is there something you can hide under?"

"Okay," he said slowly. He put the car into reverse and pulled it back into the deeper brush. "Okay. I'll hide. But if you take us somewhere I don't tell you to go..."

We winced at his doubt, stung, but our voice was flat. "Shoot us."

He didn't answer. He got out, leaving the engine running. We slid across the cup holders into his seat. We heard the trunk slam.

Jared climbed into the backseat, a thick plaid blanket under his arm.

"Turn right at the road," he said.

The car was an automatic, but it had been a long time and we were unsure behind the wheel. We moved ahead carefully, pleased to find that we remembered how to drive. The highway was still empty. We pulled out onto the road, our heart reacting to the open space again.

"Lights," Jared said. His voice came from low on the bench.

We searched till we found the switch, then flicked them on. They seemed horribly bright.

We weren't far from Tucson—I could see a yellowish glow of color against the sky. The lights of the city ahead.

"You could drive a little faster."

"We’re right at the limit," I protested.

He paused for a second. "Souls don't speed?"

We laughed. The sound was only a tad hysterical. "We obey all laws, traffic laws included."

“Mel doesn’t want to speed?”

We winced, and our feet stepped just a little heavier. The car lurched forward.

“Mel doesn’t want to die in an accident,” Mel murmured.

The lights became more than a glow—they turned into individual points of brightness. Green signs informed us of our exit options.

"Take Ina Road."

We followed his instructions. He kept his voice low, though, enclosed as we were, we could both have shouted.

It was hard to be in this unfamiliar city. To see houses and apartments and stores with signs lit up. To know we were surrounded, outnumbered. We imagined what it must feel like for Jared. His voice was remarkably calm. But he'd done this before, many times.

Other cars were on the road now. When their lights washed our windshield, we cringed in terror.

Jared directed us through the mostly sleeping city. The Healing facility was just a small place. It must have been a medical building once—doctors' offices, rather than an actual hospital. The lights were bright through most of the windows, through the glass front. We could see a woman behind a greeting desk. She didn't look up at our headlights. We drove to the darkest corner of the parking lot.

We slid our arms through the straps of the backpack. It wasn't new, but it was in good shape. Perfect. There was just one more thing to do.

"Quick, give us the knife."

"You… after your whole thing with _not killing_ , do you really think you could use it? "

"Not for them, Jared. We need a wound."

He gasped. "You have a wound. That's enough!"

"We need one like Jamie's. We don't know enough about Healing. We have to see exactly what to do. We would have done it before, but we weren’t sure we would be able to drive."

"No. Not again."

"Give it to us now. Someone will notice if we don't go inside soon."

Jared thought it through quickly. He was the best, as Jeb had said, because he could see what had to be done and do it fast. We heard the steely sound of the knife coming out of the sheath.

"Be very careful. Not too deep."

"You want to do it?"

He inhaled sharply. "No."

"Okay."

We took the ugly knife. It had a heavy handle and was very sharp; it came to a tapered point at the tip.

We didn't let ourselves think about it. We didn't want to give ourselves a chance to be a coward. The arm, not the leg—that's all we paused to decide. Our knees were scarred. We didn't want to have to hide that, too.

We held our left arm out; our hand was shaking. We braced it against the door and then twisted our head so that we could bite down on the headrest. We held the knife's handle awkwardly but tightly in our right hand. We pressed the point against the skin of our forearm so we wouldn't miss. Then we closed our eyes.

Jared was breathing too hard. We had to be fast or he would stop us.

 _Just pretend it's a shovel opening the ground_.

We jammed the knife into our arm.

The headrest muffled our scream, but it was still too loud. The knife fell from our hand—jerking sickeningly out from the muscle—and then clunked against the floor.

"Mel!" Jared rasped.

We couldn't answer yet. We tried to choke back the other screams we felt coming. We'd been right not to do this before driving.

"Wanda? Let me see!"

"Stay there," we gasped. "Don't move."

We heard the blanket rustling behind us despite our warning. We pulled our left arm against our body and yanked the door open with our right hand. Jared's hand brushed our back as we half fell out the door. It wasn't a restraint. It was comfort.

"I'll be right back," we coughed out, and then we kicked the door shut behind us.

We stumbled across the lot, fighting nausea and panic. They seemed to balance each other out—one keeping the other from taking control of our body. The pain wasn't too bad—or rather, we couldn't feel it as much anymore. We were going into shock. Too many kinds of pain, too close together. Hot liquid rolled down our fingers and dripped to the pavement. We wondered if we could move those fingers. We were afraid to try.

The woman behind the reception desk—middle-aged, with dark chocolate skin and a few silver threads in her black hair—jumped to her feet when we lurched through the automatic doors.

"Oh, no! Oh, dear!" She grabbed a microphone, and her next words echoed from the ceiling, magnified. "Healer Knits! I need you in reception! This is an emergency!"

"No." We tried to speak calmly, but we swayed in place. "I'm okay. Just an accident."

She put the microphone down and hurried around to where we stood swaying. Her arm went around our waist. We tried not to freeze at the contact.

"Oh, honey, what happened to you?"

"So careless," we muttered. "I was hiking... I fell down the rocks. I was holding a knife, it was just after dinner. So stupid…"

She didn't look at us with any suspicion, with anything aside from concern. We smiled weakly at her.

"You poor dear! What's your name?"

"Glass Spires," we told her, using the rather generic name of a herd member from our time with the Bears.

"Okay, Glass Spires. Here comes the Healer. You'll be fine in just a moment."

We didn't feel panicked at all anymore. The kindly woman patted our back. So gentle, so caring. She would never harm us.

The Healer was a young woman. Her hair, skin, and eyes were all a similar shade of light brown. It made her unusual looking, monochromatic. She wore tan scrubs that only added to that impression.

"Wow," she said. "I'm Healer Knits Fire. I'll get you fixed up directly. What happened?"

We told the story again as the two women led us down a hallway and then through the very first door. They had us lie down on the paper-covered bed.

The room was familiar. We'd been in many places like this, me when I woke up and Mel many times through her childhood. The short row of double cabinets, the sink where the Healer was washing her hands, the bright, clean white walls...

"First things first," Knits Fire said cheerfully. She pulled a cabinet open. We tried to focus our eyes, knowing this was important. The cabinet was full of rows and rows of stacked white cylinders. She took one down, reaching for it without searching; she knew what she wanted. The small container had a label, but we couldn't read it. "A little no pain should help, don't you think?"

We saw the label again as she twisted the lid off. Two short words. _No Pain?_ Was that what it said?

"Open your mouth, Glass Spires."

We obeyed. She took a small, thin square—it looked like tissue paper—and laid it on our tongue. It dissolved at once. There was no flavor. We swallowed automatically.

"Better?" the Healer asked.

And it was. Already. Our head was clear and we could concentrate without difficulty. The pain had melted away with the tiny square. Disappeared. We blinked, shocked.

"Yes."

"I know you feel fine now, but please don't move. Your injuries are not treated yet."

"Of course."

"Cerulean, could you get us some water? Her mouth seems dry."

"At once, Healer Knits."

The older woman left the room.

The Healer turned back to her cabinets, opening a different one this time. This, too, was filled with white containers. "Here we are." She pulled one from the top of a stack, then took another from the other side.

Almost as if she were trying to help us, she listed the names as she reached for them.

"Clean—inside and out... Heal... Seal... And where is... ah, Smooth. Don't want a scar on that pretty face, do we?"

"Ah... no."

"Don't worry. You'll be perfect again."

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

She leaned over us with another white cylinder. The top of this one came off with a pop, and there was an aerosol spray nozzle underneath. She sprayed our forearm first, coating the wound with clear, odorless mist.

"Healing must be a fulfilling profession." Our voice sounded just right. Interested, but not unduly so. Mel was a good actress. "I haven't been in a Healing facility since insertion. This is very interesting."

"Yes, I like it." She started spraying our face.

"What are you doing now?"

She smiled. We guessed that we were not the first curious soul. "This is Clean. It will make sure nothing foreign stays in the wound. It kills off any of the microbes that might infect the wound."

"Clean," we repeated to ourselves.

"And the Inside Clean, just in case anything has snuck into your system. Inhale this, please."

She had a different white cylinder in her hand, a thinner bottle with a pump rather than an aerosol top. She puffed a cloud of mist into the air above our face. We sucked in a breath. The mist tasted like mint.

"And this is Heal," Knits Fire continued, twisting the cap off the next canister, revealing a small pouring spout. "It encourages your tissues to rejoin, to grow the way they should."

She dribbled a tiny bit of the clear liquid into the wide cut on our arm, then she pushed the edges of the wound together. We could feel her touch, but there was no pain.

"I'll seal this up before I move on." She opened another container, this one a pliable tube, and then squeezed out a line of thick, clear jelly onto her finger. "Like glue," she told us. "It holds everything together and lets the Heal do its job." She wiped it over our arm in one swift pass. "Okay, you can move that now. Your arm is fine."

We held it up to look. A faint pink line was visible under the shiny gel. The blood was still wet on our arm, but there was no source anymore. As we watched, the Healer cleaned our skin with one quick pass of a damp towel.

 _With this, my face really can go back to normal_ , Mel realized, something fervently hopeful in her voice. I hadn’t realized how much it meant to her, how scarred we had become.

"Turn your face this way, please. Hmm, you must have hit those rocks just exactly wrong. What a mess."

"Yes. It was a bad fall."

"Well, thank goodness you were able to drive yourself here."

She was lightly dripping Heal onto our cheek, smearing it with the tips of her fingers. "Ah, I love to watch it work. Looks much better already. Okay... around the edges." She smiled to herself. "Maybe one more coat. I want this to be erased." She worked for a minute longer. "Very nice."

"Here's some water," the older woman said as she came through the door.

"Thank you, Cerulean."

"Let me know if you need anything more. I'll be up front."

"Thanks."

Cerulean left. We wondered if she was from the Flower Planet. Blue flowers were rare—one might take a name from that.

"You can sit now. How do you feel?"

We pulled ourselves up. "Perfect." It was true. We hadn't felt so healthy in a long time. The sharp shift from pain to ease made the sensation more powerful.

"That's just how it should be. Okay, let's dust on a little Smooth."

She twisted the last cylinder's top and shook an iridescent powder into her hand. She patted it into our cheek, then patted another handful onto our arm.

"You'll always have a small line on your arm," she said apologetically. "Like your neck. A deep wound..." She shrugged. Absentmindedly, she brushed the hair back from our neck and examined the scar. "This was nicely done. Who was your Healer?"

"Faces Sunward," we said, pulling the name from one of our old students. "I was in Montana. I didn't like the cold. I moved south."

"I started out in Maine," she said, not noticing anything amiss with our lies. As she spoke, she cleaned the blood from our neck. "It was too cold for me, too. What's your Calling?"

"I serve food in Phoenix,” we said, casting about any details that might sound natural. “In a Mexican restaurant. It’s nice, I really like spicy food."

"Me, too." She wasn't looking at us funny. She was wiping our cheek now. "Very nice. No worries, Glass Spires. Your face looks great."

"Thank you, Healer."

"Of course. Would you like some water?"

"Yes, please." We kept a grip on ourselves. It wouldn't do to bolt the glass down the way we wanted to. We weren’t able to stop ourselves from finishing it all, though. It tasted too good.

"Would you like more?"

"I... yes, that would be nice. Thank you."

"I'll be right back."

The second she was out the door, we slid off the mattress. The paper crackled, freezing us in place. She didn't dart back in. We had only seconds. It had taken Cerulean a few minutes to get the water. Maybe it would take the Healer just as long. Maybe the cool, pure water was far away from this room. Maybe.

A strange sort of calm washed over us. We had done this before. Mel had had to do this before many times before Jared had arrived, raiding alone to try and bring something home for Jamie. This was just the same.

We ripped the pack off our shoulders and wrenched the drawstrings open. We started with the second cabinet. There was the stacked column of Heal. We grabbed the whole column and let it clatter quietly into the bottom of our pack.

We took the two kinds of Clean next, from the first cabinet. There was a second stack behind the first of each, and we took half of those, too. Then the No Pain, both stacks of that. We were about to turn back for the Seal, when the label of the next row of cylinders caught our attention.

 _Cool_. For fevers? There were no instructions, just the label. We took the stack. Nothing here would hurt a human body. We were sure of that.

We grabbed all the Seal and two cans of Smooth. We couldn't press our luck any further. We closed the cabinets quietly and threw our arms through the straps of the pack. We leaned against the mattress, making another crackle. We tried to look relaxed.

She didn't come back.

We checked the clock. It had been one minute. How far away was the water?

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Had my atrocious ability to lie hampered Mel’s way with it more than we had thought? Had they seen through us?

Sweat started to dew up on our forehead. We wiped it away quickly.

What if she brought back a Seeker?

We thought of the small pill in our pocket, and our hands shook. We didn’t want to do it. Who would save Jamie then?

We heard quiet footsteps then, two sets, coming down the hall.


	17. chapter 45: SUCCEEDED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> Hope you guys like it!

Healer Knits Fire and Cerulean walked through the door together. The Healer handed us a tall glass of water. It didn't feel as cold as the first—our fingers were cold with fear now. The dark-skinned woman had something for us, too. She handed us a flat rectangle with a handle.

"I thought you would want to see," Knits Fire said with a warm smile.

The tension flooded out of us. There was no suspicion or fear. Just more kindness from the souls who had dedicated their lives to Healing.

Cerulean had given us a mirror.

We held it up and then tried to stifle our gasp.

Our face looked the way we remembered it. The face we had always taken from granted. The skin was smooth and peachy across our right cheekbone. If we looked carefully, it was just a little lighter and pinker in color than the tan on the other cheek.

It wasn’t scarred. It wasn’t broken. It was just us.

The swell of emotion that rose in our chest almost made our expression twist.

"What do you think?" the Healer asked.

"I look perfect,” we told her, our voice just slightly wet. “Thank you."

"It was my pleasure to heal you."

We looked at ourselves again, seeing details beyond the perfection. Our hair was ragged—dirty, with uneven ends. There was no gloss to it—homemade soap and poor nutrition were to blame for that. Though the Healer had cleaned the blood from our neck, it was still smudged with purple dust.

"I think it's time I called the camping trip quits. I need to clean up," we murmured.

"Do you camp often?"

"In all my free time, lately. I... can't seem to keep away from the desert."

"You must be brave. I find the city much more comfortable."

"Not brave, just different."

In the mirror, our eyes were familiar rings of hazel. Dark gray on the outside, a circle of moss green, and then another circle of caramel brown around the pupil. Underlying it all, a faint shimmer of silver that would reflect the light, magnify it. The one thing of _mine_ in this body.

This body, I remembered, feeling Mel’s relief in our chest at the fact of her beautiful, unmarred face, wasn’t mine. It wasn’t me.

This was Melanie.

Melanie wanted to reassure me—but didn’t know quite of what, and had no words to do it.

We blinked, then looked back at the friendly faces beside us.

"Thank you," we said again to the Healer. "I suppose I'd better be on my way."

"It's very late. You could sleep here if you'd like."

"I'm not tired. I feel perfect."

The Healer grinned. "No Pain does that."

Cerulean walked me to the reception area. She put her hand on our shoulder as we stepped through the door.

Our heart beat faster. Had she noticed that our pack, once flat, was now bulging?

"Be more careful, dear," she said, and patted our arm.

"I will. No more hikes in the dark."

She smiled and went back to her desk.

We kept our pace even as we walked through the parking lot. We wanted to run. What if the Healer looked in her cabinets? How soon would she realize why they were half empty?

The car was still there, in the pocket of darkness created by a gap between streetlights. It looked empty. Our breath came fast and uneven. Of course it should look empty. That was the whole point. But our lungs didn't calm until we could glimpse the vague shape under the blanket on the backseat.

We opened the door and put the backpack on the passenger seat—it settled there with a reassuring clatter—then we climbed in and shut the door. There was no reason to slam the locks down; we ignored the urge.

"Are you okay?" Jared whispered as soon as the door was closed. His voice was a strained, anxious rasp.

"Shh," we said, keeping our lips as still as we could. "Wait."

We drove past the bright entrance and answered Cerulean's wave with one of our own.

"Making friends?"

We were on the dark road. No one was watching us anymore. We slumped in the seat. Our hands started to shake. We could allow that, now that it was over. Now that we'd succeeded.

"All souls are friends," I told him, using our normal volume.

"Are you all right?" he demanded again.

"We’re healed."

"Let me see."

We stretched our left arm across our body, so he could see the tiny pink line.

He sucked in a surprised breath.

The blanket rustled; he sat up and then climbed through the space between the seats. He pushed the backpack out of the way, then pulled it onto his lap, testing its weight.

He looked up at us as we passed under a streetlamp, and he gasped.

"Your face!"

"It's healed, too. Naturally."

He raised one hand, holding it in the air near our cheek, unsure. "Does it hurt?"

"Of course not. It feels like nothing happened to it in the first place."

His fingers brushed the new skin. It tingled, but that was from his touch. Then he was back to business.

"Did they suspect anything? Do you think they'll call the Seekers?"

"No. We told you they wouldn't be suspicious. They didn't even check our eyes. We were hurt, so they healed us." We shrugged.

"What did you get?" he asked, opening the drawstrings on the backpack.

"The right things for Jamie... if we get back in time..." we glanced at the clock on the dashboard automatically, though the hours it marked were meaningless. "And more for the future. We only took what we understood."

"We'll be back in time," he promised. He examined the white containers. "Smooth?"

"Not a necessity. But we know what it does, so..."

He nodded, digging through the bag. He muttered the names to himself. "No Pain? Does it work?"

We laughed. "It's amazing. Next time Kyle tries to murder us, we won’t even mind."

He scowled at us, but quickly his expression smoothed to something we couldn’t quite understand. His eyes were wide, like something had deeply surprised him.

"What?”

"You did it." His tone was full of wonder.

"Wasn't that the idea?"

"Yes, but... I guess I didn't really think we were going to make it out."

"You didn't? Why not? Why come at all, then?"

He answered in a soft almost-whisper. "I figured it was better to die trying than to live without the kid."

For a moment, our throat was choked with emotion. We were a family in that one instant. All of us.

We cleared our throat. No need to feel things that would only come to nothing—not where I was concerned.

"It was very easy. Probably any of you could get away with it, if you acted naturally. She did look at our neck." We touched it reflexively. "Your scar is too obviously homemade, but with the medicines we took, Doc could fix that."

"I doubt any of us could act so natural."

I nodded. "Yes. It's easy for me. I know what they expect." We laughed briefly to ourselves. "We’re one of them. If you trusted us, I could probably get you anything in the world you wanted." We laughed again. It was just the stress fading, making us giddy. But it was funny to us. Did he realize that I would do exactly that for him? Anything in the world he wanted.

"I do trust you," he whispered. "With all our lives, I trust you."

And he had trusted me with every single human life. His, and Jamie's, and everyone else's.

Me. He had never had reason to doubt Mel.

"Thank you," I whispered back.

"You did it," he repeated in wonder.

"We're going to save him. Jamie is going to _live_."

After reattaching the tarps when we reached the wash, Jared took over the driving. The way was familiar to him, and he drove faster than we would have. He had us get out before he pulled the car into its impossibly small hiding place under the rock slide. We waited for the sound of rock against metal, but Jared found a way in.

And then we were back in the jeep and flying through the night. Jared laughed, triumphant, as we jolted across the open desert, and the wind carried his voice away.

"Where's the blindfold?" we asked.

"Why?"

I looked at him.

"Wanda, if you wanted to turn us in, you had your chance. No one can deny that you're one of us now."

“Some still could,” we argued weakly. We didn’t really _want_ the blindfold.

"Your some need to get over themselves."

But we thought about Kyle, then, and our joke—what if they gave us no time once we went back?

"Jared... if they... if they don't listen... if they don't wait..." we started talking faster, feeling a sudden pressure, trying to get him all the information before it was too late. "Give Jamie the No Pain first—lay that on his tongue. Then the Inside Clean spray—he just has to inhale it. You'll need Doc to—"

"Hey, hey! You're going to be the one giving the directions."

"But let us tell you how—"

"No. It's not going to go down that way. I'll shoot anyone who touches you."

"Jared—"

"Don't panic. I'll aim low, and then you can use that stuff to heal 'em back up again."

"If that's a joke, it's not funny."

"No joke, Wanda."

"Where's the blindfold?"

He pressed his lips together.

“It’ll help us get to Jamie faster,” Mel argued.

He said nothing.

But we had our old shirt—Jeb's raggy hand-me-down. That would work almost as well.

“This will make it a little bit easier for them to let us in," we said as we folded it up into a thick band. "And that means getting to Jamie faster." We tied it over our eyes. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

It was quiet for a time. The jeep bounced along the uneven terrain. We remembered nights like this when we—Mel— had been the passenger...

"I'm taking us right to the caves. There's a place the jeep will be fairly well hidden for a day or two. It will save us time."

We nodded. Time was the key now.

"Almost there," he said after a minute. He exhaled. "They're waiting."

We heard him fumbling beside us, heard a metal clank as he pulled the gun from the backseat.

"Don't shoot anyone."

"No promises."

"Stop!" someone shouted. The sound carried in the empty desert air.

The jeep slowed and then idled.

"It's just us," Jared said. "Yes, yes, look. See? I'm still me."

There was hesitation from the other side.

"Look—I'm bringing the jeep in under cover, okay? We've got meds for Jamie, and we're in a hurry. I don't care what you're thinking, you're not going to get in my way tonight."

The jeep pulled forward. The sound changed and echoed as he found his cover.

"Okay, Wanda, Mel, everything's fine. Let's go."

We already had the pack on our shoulders. We got out of the jeep carefully, not sure where the wall was. Jared caught our searching hands.

"Up you go," he said, and lifted us over his shoulder again.

We weren’t as secure as before. He used only one arm to hold us. The other must have had the gun. We didn’t really like that.

But we were worried enough to be grateful for it when we heard the running footsteps approaching.

"Jared, you idiot!" Kyle shouted. "What were you thinking?"

"Ease up, Kyle," Jeb said.

"Is she hurt?" Ian demanded.

"Get out of my way," Jared said, his voice calm. "I'm in a hurry. She’s in perfect shape, but she insisted on being blindfolded. How is Jamie?"

"Hot," Jeb said.

"They’ve got what we need." He was moving fast now, sliding downhill.

"I can carry them." Ian, of course.

"She's fine where she is."

"It’s fine," we told Ian, our voice bouncing with Jared's movement.

Uphill again, a steady jog despite my weight. We could hear the others running with us.

We knew when we were through to the main cavern—the angry hiss of voices swelled around us, turning into a clamor of sound.

"Out of my way," Jared roared over their voices. "Is Doc with Jamie?"

We couldn't make out the answer. Jared could have put us down, but he was in too much of a hurry to pause for that second.

The angry voices echoed behind us, the sound constricting as we entered the smaller tunnel. We could feel where we were now, follow the turns in our head as we raced through the junction to the third sleeping hall. We could almost count the doors as they passed us invisibly.

Jared jerked to a halt and let the sudden stop slide us down from his shoulder. Our feet hit the floor. He ripped the blindfold from our eyes.

Our room was lit by several of the dim blue lanterns. Doc was standing rigidly, as if he'd just sprung to his feet. Kneeling beside him, her hand still holding a wet cloth to Jamie's forehead, was Sharon. Her face was almost unrecognizable, it was so contorted with fury. Maggie was struggling to her feet on Jamie's other side.

Jamie still lay limp and red, eyes closed, his chest barely moving to pull in air.

"You!" Sharon spit, and then she launched herself from her crouch. Like a cat, she sprang at Jared, nails reaching for his face.

Jared caught her hands and twisted her away from him, pulling her arms behind her back.

Maggie looked as if she was about to join her daughter, but Jeb stepped around the struggling Sharon and Jared to stand toe-to-toe with her.

"Let her go!" Doc cried.

Jared ignored him. "Wanda—heal him!"

Doc moved to put himself between Jamie and us.

"Doc," I choked. The violence in the room, swirling around Jamie's still form, scared me. "I need your help. Please. For Jamie."

Doc didn't move, his eyes on Sharon and Jared.

"C'mon, Doc," Ian said. The little room was too crowded, claustrophobic, as Ian came to stand with his hand on our shoulder. "You gonna let the kid die for your pride?"

"It's not pride. You don't know what these foreign substances will do to him!"

"He can't get much worse, can he?"

"Doc," we said. "Look at my face."

Doc wasn't the only one who responded to our words. Jeb, Ian, and even Maggie looked and then did a double take. Maggie glanced away quickly, angry that she'd betrayed any interest.

"How?" Doc demanded.

"You’ll see. Please. Jamie doesn't need to suffer."

Doc hesitated, staring at our face, and then let out a big sigh. "Ian's right—he can't get much worse. If this kills him..." He shrugged, and his shoulders slumped. He took a step back.

"No," Sharon cried.

No one paid any attention to her.

We knelt beside Jamie, yanking the backpack off our shoulders and tugging it open. We fumbled until we found the No Pain. A bright light switched on beside us, pointed at Jamie's face.

"Water, Ian?"

We twisted the lid open and pinched out one of the little tissue squares. When we pulled Jamie's chin down, his skin burned our hand. We laid the square on his tongue and then held out our hand without looking up. Ian placed the bowl of water in it.

Carefully, we dripped enough water into his mouth to wash the medicine down his throat. The sound of his swallow was dry and painful.

We searched frantically for the thinner spray bottle. When we found it, we had the lid off and the mist sprayed into the air above him in one fast movement. We waited, watching his chest until he inhaled.

We touched his face, and it was so hot! We scrambled for the Cool, praying it would be easy to use. The lid screwed off, and we found that the cylinder was full of more tissue squares, light blue this time. We breathed a sigh of relief and placed one on Jamie's tongue. We picked up the bowl again and dribbled another mouthful of water through his parched lips.

His swallow was quicker this time, less strained.

Another hand touched Jamie's face. We recognized Doc's long bony fingers.

"Doc, do you have a sharp knife?"

"I have a scalpel. You want me to open the wound?"

"Yes, so we can clean it."

"I thought about trying that... to drain it, but the pain..."

"He'll feel nothing now."

"Look at his face," Ian leaned in beside us to whisper.

Jamie's face was no longer red. It was a natural, healthy tan. The sweat still glistened on his brow, but we knew it was just left over from before. Doc and we touched his forehead at the same time.

“It’s working,” we murmured, exultant.

"Remarkable," Doc breathed.

"The fever has cooled, but the infection may remain in his leg. Help me with his wound, Doc."

"Sharon, could you hand us—" he began absentmindedly. Then he looked up. "Oh. Ah, Kyle, do you mind handing me that bag right there by your foot?"

We scooted down so that we were over the red, swollen cut. Ian redirected the light so we could see it clearly. Doc and we both rustled through our bags at the same time. He came up with the silver scalpel, a sight that sent a quiver of unease down our spine. We ignored it and readied the bigger Clean spray.

"He won't feel it?" Doc checked, hesitating.

"Hey," Jamie croaked. His eyes were open wide, roaming the room until they found our face. "Hey, Mel. What's going on? What's everyone doing here?"


	18. chapter 46: ENCIRCLED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Monday, another chapter of "welcome home." ! I hoep you guys like this one also. Things start picking up a bit after this... [eyes emoji]

Jamie started to sit up.

"Easy there, kid. How you feelin'?" Ian moved to press Jamie's shoulders against the mattress.

"I feel... really good. Why is everyone here? I don't remember..."

"You've been sick. Hold still so we can finish fixing you."

"Can I have some water?"

"Sure, kid. Here you go."

Doc was staring at Jamie with disbelieving eyes.

We could barely talk, our throat was so tight with joy. "It's the No Pain," we muttered. "It feels wonderful."

"Why does Jared have Sharon in a headlock?" Jamie whispered to Ian.

"She's in a bad mood," Ian stage-whispered back.

"Hold very still, Jamie," Doc cautioned. "We're going to... clean out your injury. Okay?"

"Okay," Jamie agreed in a small voice. He'd noticed the scalpel in Doc's hands. He eyed it warily.

"Tell me if you can feel this," Doc said.

"If it hurts," I amended.

With practiced skill, Doc slid the scalpel gently through the diseased skin in one swift movement. We both glanced at Jamie. He was staring straight up at the dark ceiling.

"That feels weird," Jamie said. "But it doesn't hurt."

Doc nodded to himself and brought the scalpel down again, making a cross cut. Red blood and dark yellow discharge oozed from the gash.

As soon as Doc's hand was clear, we were spraying Clean back and forth across the bloody X. When it hit the oozing secretion, the unhealthy yellow seemed to sizzle silently. It began to recede. Almost like suds hit by a spray of water. It melted. Doc was breathing fast beside us.

"Look at that."

We sprayed the area twice for good measure. Already the darker red was gone from Jamie's skin. All that was left was the normal red color of the human blood that flowed out.

"Okay, Heal," we muttered. We found the right canister and tipped the little spout over the gashes in his skin. The clear liquid trickled in, coating the raw flesh and glistening there. The bleeding stopped wherever the Heal spread. We poured half the container—surely twice as much as was needed—into the wound.

"Okay, hold the edges together, Doc."

Doc was speechless as this point, though his mouth hung wide. He did as we asked, using two hands to get both cuts.

Jamie laughed. "That tickles."

Doc's eyes bulged.

We smeared Seal across the X, watching with deep satisfaction as the edges fused together and faded to pink.

"Can I see?" Jamie asked.

"Let him up, Ian. We're almost done."

Jamie pulled himself up on his elbows, his eyes bright and curious. His sweaty, dirty hair was matted to his head. It didn't make sense now, next to the healthy glow of his skin.

"See, we put this on," we said, brushing a handful of glitter across the cuts, "and it makes the scar very faint. Like this." We showed him the one on our arm.

Jamie laughed. "But don't scars impress girls? Where did you get this stuff, anyway? It's like magic."

"Jared took us on a raid."

"Seriously? That's awesome."

Doc touched the glistening powder residue on our hand, then held his fingers to his nose.

"You should have seen them," Jared said. "They were incredible."

We were surprised to hear his voice close behind us—and even more surprised by how easily he recognized both of us. We looked around for Sharon automatically and just caught sight of the flame of her hair leaving the room. Maggie was right behind her.

How sad. How frightening. To be filled with so much hate that you could not even rejoice in the healing of a child, their own nephew, their own cousin... How did anyone ever come to that point?

Frankly, how _stupid._

"They walked right into a hospital, right up to the alien there, and asked them to treat their injuries, bold as anything. Then, when they turned their backs, she robbed them blind!" Jared made it sound exciting. Jamie was enjoying it, too; his smile was huge. "Walked right out of there with medicine enough to last us all for a long time. She even waved at the bugger behind the counter as she drove away." Jared laughed.

Jamie was staring at us with big eyes.

"It wasn't that exciting, really," we told him. He took our hand, and we squeezed his, our heart swollen with gratitude and love. "It was very easy. I'm a bugger, too, after all."

"I didn't mean—" Jared started to apologize.

I waved his protest away, smiling.

"How did you explain the scar on your face?" Doc asked. "Didn't they wonder why you hadn't—”

"I had to have fresh injuries, of course. We were careful to leave them nothing to be suspicious about. I told them I'd fallen with a knife in my hand." We nudged Jamie with our elbow. "It could happen to anyone."

We were really flying high now. Everything seemed to glow from inside—the fabrics, the faces, the very walls. The crowd inside and outside the room had begun to murmur and question, but that noise was just a ringing in my ears—like the lingering sound after a bell is struck. A shimmer in the air. Nothing seemed real but the little circle of people we loved. Jamie and Jared and Ian and Jeb. Even Doc belonged in this perfect moment.

"Fresh injuries?" Ian asked in a flat voice.

We stared at him, surprised at the anger in his eyes.

"It was necessary. The scar needed to be hidden. And we had to learn how to heal Jamie."

Jared picked up our left wrist and stroked his finger over the faint pink line a few inches above it. "It was horrible," he said, all the humor suddenly gone from his sober voice. "She about hacked her hand off. I thought she'd never use it again."

Jamie's eyes widened in horror. "You cut yourself?"

We squeezed his hand again. "Don't be anxious—it wasn't that bad. We knew it would be healed quickly."

"You should have seen her," Jared repeated in a low voice, still stroking our arm.

Ian's fingers brushed across our cheek. It felt nice, and we leaned into his hand when he left it there. We wondered if it was the No Pain or just the joy of saving Jamie that made everything warm and glowing.

"No more raids for you," Ian murmured.

We rolled our eyes.

"Of course she'll go out again," Jared said, his voice louder with surprise. "Ian, Wanda was absolutely phenomenal. You'd have to see to really understand. I'm only just beginning to guess at all the possibilities—"

"Possibilities?" Ian's hand slid down our neck to our shoulder. He pulled us closer to his side, away from Jared. We let him, still too happy to do more than grumble at him. "At what cost to her? You let her almost hack her own hand off?" His fingers flexed around the top of our arm with his inflections.

The anger didn't belong with the glow, though.

“Ian, remember the _talking like I’m not here_ thing?” we said. “Come on. It was my idea.”

"Of course it was your idea," Ian growled. "You'd do anything... You have no limits when it comes to these two. But Jared shouldn't have let you—"

“Jared doesn’t _let_ us do anything,” we told him blandly, pulling away from him.

"What other way was there, Ian?" Jared argued. "Did you have a better plan? Do you think she'd be happier if she was unhurt but Jamie was gone?"

We flinched at the hideous thought.

Ian's voice was less hostile when he answered. "No. But I don't understand how you could sit there and watch her do that to herself." Ian shook his head in disgust, and Jared's shoulders hunched in response. "What kind of a man—”

"A practical one," Jeb interrupted.

We all looked up. Jeb stood over us, a bulky cardboard box in his arms.

"It's why Jared's the best at getting what we need. Because he can do what has to be done. Or watch what has to be done. Even when watching's harder than doing.

"Now, I know it's closer to breakfast than supper, but I figured some of you haven't eaten in a while," Jeb went on, changing the subject without subtlety. "Hungry, kid?"

"Uh... I'm not sure," Jamie admitted. "I feel real hollow, but it doesn't feel... bad."

"That's the No Pain," we said. "You should eat."

"And drink," Doc said. "You need liquids."

Jeb let the unwieldy box fall onto the mattress. "Thought we might have a bit of a celebration. Dig in."

"Wow, yum!" Jamie said, pawing through the box of dehydrated meals of the sort that hikers used. "Spaghetti. Excellent."

"Dibs on the garlic chicken," Jeb said. "I've been missin' garlic quite a bit—though I imagine no one misses it on my breath." He chuckled.

Jeb was prepared, with bottles of water and several portable stoves. People began to gather around, squeezing together in the small space. We were wedged between Jared and Ian, and we had pulled Jamie onto our lap. Though he was much too old for this, he didn't protest. He must have sensed how much we needed that, to have him alive and healthy and in our arms.

The shimmering circle seemed to widen, enveloping the entire late-night supper party, making them family, too. Everyone waited contentedly for Jeb to prepare the unexpected treats, in no hurry. Fear had been replaced by relief and happy news. Even Kyle, compressed into the small space on the other side of his brother, was not unwelcome in the circle.

We sighed in contentment. We were so aware of the warmth of the boy in our lap and the touch of the man who still stroked his hand against our arm. Of Ian's arm around our shoulders.

We closed our eyes.

 _This is so much more than I've ever had_ , I whispered.

 _This is so much of what I lost_ , she whispered back.

What was it that made this human love so much more desirable to me than the love of souls? Was it because it was exclusive and capricious? The souls offered love and acceptance to all. Did I crave a greater challenge? This love was tricky; it had no hard-and-fast rules—it might be given for free, as with Jamie, or earned through time and hard work, as with Ian, or completely and heartbreakingly unattainable, as with Jared.

Or was it simply better somehow? Because these humans could hate with so much fury, was the other end of the spectrum that they could love with more heart and zeal and fire?

I didn't know why I had yearned after it so desperately. All I knew was that, now that I had it, it was worth every ounce of risk and agony it had cost. It was better than I'd imagined.

It was everything.

It was monstrous that it came at the expanse of the one I had grown to love the most.

By the time the food was prepared and consumed, the late—or rather early—hour had gotten to us all. People stumbled out of the crowded room toward their beds. As they left, there was more space.

Those remaining slouched down where we were as room became available. Gradually, we melted in place until we were horizontal. Our head ended up pillowed on Jared's stomach; his hand stroked our hair now and then. Jamie's face was against our chest, and his arms were around our neck. One of our arms wrapped around his shoulders. Ian's head was cushioned on our stomach, and he held our other hand to his face. We could feel Doc's long leg stretched beside ours, his shoe by our hip. Doc was asleep—we could hear him snoring. We may have even been touching Kyle somewhere.

Jeb was sprawled on the bed. He belched, and Kyle chuckled.

"Nicer night than I was plannin' for. I like it when pessimism goes unrewarded," Jeb mused. "Thanks, girls."

“Fuck you, Jeb,” we murmured, half asleep.

"Next time she raids..." Kyle said, somewhere on the other side of Jared's body. A big yawn interrupted his sentence. "Next time she raids, I'm coming, too."

"She's not going out again," Ian answered, his body tensing. We patted his face with a hand.

“Fuck _you_ , Ian,” we murmured again. “We don’t mind staying here, either way. We don’t want all of you popping your pants with fear any time we leave,” Mel added.

"You’re not a prisoner anymore," Ian said, irritated. "You can go anywhere you want as far as I'm concerned. Jogging on the highway, if you'd like that. Let them poop their stupid pants. But not a raid. I'm talking about keeping you safe!"

"We need them," Jared said, his voice harder than we wanted to hear it.

"We got by fine without them before."

"Fine? Jamie would have died without them. They can get things for us that no one else can."

"They’re people, Jared, not a tool."

"Of course I know that!"

"'S up to them, I'd say." Jeb interrupted the argument just as we were about to. Our hand was holding Ian down now, and we could feel Jared's body shifting under our head as he prepared to get up. Jeb's words froze them in place.

"You can't leave it up to them, Jeb," Ian protested.

"Why not? Seems like they’ve got their own minds. 'S it your job to make decisions for them?"

"I'll tell you why not," Ian grumbled. "Wanda, Mel?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you _want_ to go out on raids?"

“Of course we want to, you asshole. We’ve been cooped up in here for _months_. When we talked about people pooping their pants, we also meant you. Stop fretting.”

He scowled.

“You would kill yourselves if Jared asked you to,” he argued.

Mel wanted to argue back, but I was too tired for it. From everything. We patted his face again and sighed.

“I want to help,” I said, voice soft. “It makes me happy to be able to help you all after all the grief I’ve caused. Can't I find happiness the way I want to?"

Ian shook his head minutely. “Not if it means putting yourself in so much danger, Wanda.”

"Well, I can't tell her she can't go if she wants to," Jeb said. "She's not a prisoner anymore."

Jared was very quiet through all this. Jamie was quiet, too, but we were pretty sure he was asleep. We knew Jared wasn't; his hand was tracing random patterns on the side of our face. Glowing, burning patterns.

"I volunteer," we said. “Like we said, we’ve been cooped up here for months. It really wasn't... frightening, anyway. Not at all. The other souls are very kind. We’re not afraid of them. It was almost too easy."

"Easy? Cutting your—"

“Ian, shut up,” we interrupted. “It was a little cut and it was immediately healed. Go to sleep. Stop worrying and stop acting like you’re the boss of me.”

He grumbled, burying his nose in our stomach.

“I’m going wherever you go,” he decided firmly. “Somebody has to protect you two from yourselves.”

"And I'll be there to protect the rest of us from her," Kyle said with a chuckle. Then he grunted and said, "Ow."

We were too tired to lift our head to see who had hit Kyle now, but we smiled.

"And I'll be there to bring you all back alive," Jared murmured.

 _Yay_ , we thought. This was surely an assortment of people who would not make those raids hellish nightmares for us.


	19. chapter 47: EMPLOYED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Thursday, another chapter. Thank you for reading!

“This is too easy. It's not really even fun anymore," Kyle complained.

"You wanted to come," Ian reminded him.

He and Ian were in the windowless back of the van, sorting through the nonperishable groceries and toiletries we'd just collected from the store. It was the middle of the day, and the sun was shining on Wichita. It was not as hot as the Arizona desert, but it was more humid. The air swarmed with tiny flying bugs.

Jared drove toward the highway out of town, carefully keeping below the speed limit. This continued to irritate him.

"Getting tired of shopping yet, guys?" Ian asked us.

"No. We don't mind it."

"You always say that. Isn't there anything you mind?"

We rolled our eyes. "Sure. We don’t like being away from Jamie. And we mind being outside, a bit. During the day especially. It's like the opposite of claustrophobia. Everything is too open. Does that bother you, too?"

"Sometimes. We don't go out during the day much."

"At least she gets to stretch her legs," Kyle muttered. "I don't know why you want to hear her complain."

"Because it's so uncommon. Which makes it a nice change from listening to you complain."

We tuned them out. Once Ian and Kyle got started, they usually went on for a while. We consulted the map.

"Oklahoma City next?" we asked Jared, distracted.

"And a few small towns on the way, if you're up for it," he answered, eyes on the road.

"Yeah, sure."

Jared rarely lost his focus when on a raid. He didn't relax into relieved banter the way Ian and Kyle did every time we completed another mission successfully. It made us smile when they used that word—mission. That sounded so formidable. In reality, it was just a trip to the store. Just like I had done a hundred times in San Diego when I was only feeding myself.

Like Kyle said, it was too easy to provide any excitement. We pushed our cart up and down the aisles. We smiled at the souls who smiled at us, and filled the cart with things that would last. We usually grabbed a few things that wouldn't, for the men hiding in the back of the van. Premade sandwiches from the deli—things like that for our meals. And maybe a treat or two, though only for Ian. He had a fondness for mint chocolate chip ice cream. Kyle liked caramel sweets best, we knew, and we made sure to never ever get anything like that. Jared ate anything he was offered; it seemed as if he'd given up favorites many years before, embracing a life where wants were unwelcome and even needs were carefully assessed before they were met. Another reason he was good at this life—he saw priorities uncontaminated by personal desire.

Which we privately thought was pretty sad.

Occasionally, in the smaller towns, someone would notice us, would speak to us. We had our lines down so well that we could probably have fooled a human by this point.

"Hi there. New in town?"

"Yes. Brand-new."

"What brings you to Byers?"

We were always careful to check the map before we left the van, so the town's name would be familiar.

"My partner travels a lot. He's a photographer."

"How wonderful! An Artist. Well, there's certainly a lot of beautiful land around here."

Originally, we'd been the Artist. But we'd found that throwing in the information that we were already partnered saved us some time when talking to the single.

"Thank you so much for your help."

"You're very welcome. Come back soon."

We'd only had to speak to a pharmacist once, in Salt Lake City; after that, we'd known what to look for.

A sheepish smile. "I'm not sure I'm getting the right nutrition. I can't seem to avoid the junk food. This body has such a sweet tooth."

"You need to be wise, Thousand Petals. I know it's easy to give in to your cravings, but try to think about what you're eating. In the meantime, you should take a supplement."

Health. Such an obvious title on the bottle, it made us feel silly for asking.

"Would you like the ones that taste like strawberries or the ones that taste like chocolate?"

"Could I try both?"

And the pleasant soul named Earthborn gave us both of the large bottles.

Not very challenging. The only fear or sense of danger we ever felt came when we thought of the small cyanide pill that we always kept in an easily reachable pocket. Just in case.

"You should get new clothes in the next town," Jared said.

"Again?"

"Those are looking a little creased."

"Okay," we agreed. I didn't like the excess, but the steadily growing pile of dirty laundry wouldn't go to waste. Lily and Heidi and Paige were all close to our size, and they would be grateful for something new to wear. The men rarely bothered with things like clothes when they were raiding. Every foray was life-or-death—clothes were not a priority. Nor were the gentle soaps and shampoos that we’d been collecting at every store. They were idiots.

"You should probably clean up, too," Jared said with a sigh. "Guess that means a hotel tonight."

Keeping up appearances was not something they'd worried about before. Of course, we were the only one who had to look as if we were a part of civilization from close up. The men wore jeans and dark T-shirts now, things that didn't show dirt or attract attention in the brief moments they might be seen.

They all hated sleeping in the roadside inns—succumbing to unconsciousness inside the very mouth of the enemy. It scared them more than anything else we did. Ian said he'd rather charge an armed Seeker.

Kyle simply refused. He mostly slept in the van during the day and then sat up at night, acting as sentry.

This was fortunate, because we probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep with him in the room.

For us, it was as easy as shopping in the stores. We checked us in, made conversation with the clerk. Told the story about our photographer partner and the friend who was traveling with us (just in case someone saw all three of us enter the room). We used generic names from unremarkable planets. Sometimes we were Bats: Word Keeper, Sings the Egg Song, and Sky Roost. Sometimes we were See Weeds: Twisting Eyes, Sees to the Surface, and Second Sunrise. We changed the names every time, not that anyone was trying to trace our path. It just made us feel safer to do that—even if it felt a bit silly sometimes.

One part that I minded—not that I would say this out lout—was all the taking without giving anything back. It had never bothered us to shop in San Diego. We took what we needed and nothing more. Then I spent my days at the university giving back to the community by sharing my knowledge. Not a taxing Calling, but one I took seriously. We took our turns at the less-appealing chores. We did my day collecting garbage and cleaning streets. We all did.

And now we took so much more and gave nothing in return. It made us feel selfish and wrong.

 _It’s not selfish_ , Mel argued. _We’re doing this for everybody. Why think about it at all, anyway?_

 _I know,_ I said. _But—in San Diego, remember? When we did the chores along with everybody else? It was good. It was—nice, in a way. Giving back, being part of the community…_

 _You,_ Mel said. _You did the chores._

Then I would grow quiet, and we would stop thinking about it.

We were glad to be on the homestretch of our long raid. Tomorrow we would visit our growing cache—a moving truck we kept hidden within a day's reach of our path—and clean out the van for the last time. Just a few more cities, a few more days, down through Oklahoma, then New Mexico, and then a straight drive through Arizona with no stops.

Home again. At last.

When we slept in hotels rather than in the crowded van, we usually checked in after dark and left before dawn to keep the souls from getting a good look at us. Not really necessary.

Jared and Ian were beginning to realize that. This night, because we'd had such a successful day—the van was completely full; Kyle would have little space (good)—and because Ian thought we looked tired, we stopped early. The sun had not set when we returned to the van with the plastic key card.

The little inn was not very busy. We parked close to our room, and Jared and Ian went straight from the van to the room in a matter of five or six steps, their eyes on the ground. On their necks, small, faint pink lines provided camouflage. Jared carried a half-empty suitcase. No one looked at them or us.

Inside, the room-darkening curtains were drawn, and the men relaxed a little bit.

Ian lounged on the bed he and Jared would use, and flipped on the TV. Jared put the suitcase on the table, took out our dinner—cooled greasy breaded chicken strips we'd ordered from the deli in the last store—and passed it around. We sat by the window, peeking through the corner at the falling sun as we ate.

"You have to admit, Wanda, we humans had better entertainment," Ian teased.

On the television screen, two souls were speaking their lines clearly, their bodies held with perfect posture. It wasn't hard to pick up what was happening in the story because there wasn't a lot of variety in the scripts souls wrote. In this one, two souls were reconnecting after a long separation. The guy’s stint with the See Weeds had come between them, but he'd chosen to be human because he guessed his partner from the Mists Planet would be drawn to these warm-blooded hosts. And, miracle of miracles, he'd found her here.

They all had happy endings.

"You have to consider the intended audience."

“True. I wish they'd run old human shows again." He flipped through the channels and frowned. "Used to be a few of them on."

"They were too disturbing. They had to be replaced with things that weren't so... violent."

"The Brady Bunch?"

We laughed. We'd seen that show in San Diego, and we knew it from Mel’s childhood. "It condoned aggression. We remember one where a little boy punched a bully, and that was portrayed as being the right thing to do. There was blood."

Ian shook his head in disbelief but returned to the show with the former See Weed. He laughed at the wrong parts, the parts that were supposed to be touching.

We stared out the window, watching something much more interesting than the predictable story on television.

Across the two-lane road from the inn was a small park, bordered on one side by a school and on the other by a field where cows grazed. There were a few young trees, and an old-fashioned playground with a sandbox, a slide, a set of monkey bars, and one of those hand-pulled merry-go-rounds. Of course there was a swing set, too, and that was the only equipment being used currently.

A little family was taking advantage of the cooler evening air. The father had some silver in his dark hair at the temples; the mother looked many years his junior. Her red brown hair was pulled back in a long ponytail that bobbed when she moved. They had a little boy, no more than a year old. The father pushed the child in the swing from behind, while the mother stood in front, leaning in to kiss his forehead when he swung her way, making him giggle so hard that his chubby little face was bright red. This had her laughing, too—we could see her body shake with it, her hair dancing.

"What are you staring at?"

Jared's question wasn't anxious, but there was something wary about his tone, or something that was trying not to be wary; we were looking quite intently at the surprising scene, heart suddenly squeezing.

"Something we've never seen in all our lives,” we whispered.

Jared came to stand behind us, peeking out over our shoulder. "What do you mean? I doubt _Mel_ never saw—what, a park?" His eyes swept across the buildings and the road, not pausing on the playing family.

We caught his chin and pointed his face in the right direction. He didn't so much as flinch at our unexpected touch, and that gave us a strange jolt of warmth in the pit of our stomach. "Look," we said.

"What am I looking at?"

"Hope,” we said. “Hope for survival."

"Where?" he demanded, bewildered.

We were aware of Ian close behind us now, listening silently.

"See?" We pointed at the laughing mother. "See how she loves her human child?"

At that moment, the woman snatched her son from the swing and squeezed him in a tight embrace, covering his face with kisses. He cooed and flailed—just a baby. Not the miniature adult he would have been if he carried a soul.

Jared gasped. "The baby is human? How? Why? For how long?"

We shrugged. "We've never seen this before—we don't know. She has not given him up for a host. I can't imagine that she would be... forced. Motherhood is all but worshipped among our kind. If she is unwilling..." We shook our head. "We have no idea how that will be handled. This doesn't happen elsewhere. The emotions of these bodies are so much stronger than logic."

We glanced up at Jared and Ian. They were both staring openmouthed at the interspecies family in the park.

"No," we murmured to ourselves. "No one would force the parents if they wanted the child. And just look at them."

The father had his arms around both the mother and the child now. He looked down at his host body's biological son with staggering tenderness in his eyes.

"Aside from ourselves, this is the first planet we've discovered with live births. Yours certainly isn't the easiest or most prolific system. I wonder if that's the difference... or if it's the helplessness of our children. Everywhere else, reproduction is through some form of eggs or seeds. Many parents never even meet their young. I wonder..." we trailed off, our thoughts full of speculation.

The mother lifted her face to her partner, and he kissed her lips. The human child crowed with delight.

"Perhaps,” we murmured, “some of us might live in peace together.”

It was a strange thought—even stranger because of our circumstances. We wanted to smile, to feel hope unblemished, to hold this moment in our mind’s eye like the beacon of hope it was, but it was hard. We thought of ourselves, both of us in this body.

We wanted to live together in peace, but—

 _We can’t have that, can we,_ Mel whispered. _We can’t be together and not disappear._

_I… I don’t know._

Neither man could tear his eyes from the miracle in front of them.

The family was leaving. The mother dusted the sand off her jeans while the father took the boy. Then, holding hands that they swung between them, the souls strolled toward the apartments with their human child.

Ian swallowed loudly.

We didn't speak for the rest of the evening, all of us made thoughtful by what we'd seen. We went to sleep early, so we could rise early and get back to work.

We slept alone, in the bed farthest from the door. The two big men did not fit easily on the other bed; Ian tended to sprawl when he was deeply asleep, and Jared was not above throwing punches when that happened. Both of them would be more comfortable if we shared. We slept in a small ball now; maybe it was the too-open spaces we moved in all day that had us constricting in on ourselves at night, or maybe we were just so used to curling up to sleep in the tiny space behind the passenger seat on the van's floor that we'd forgotten how to sleep straight.

But we knew why no one asked us to share. The first night the men had unhappily realized the necessity of a hotel shower for us, we'd heard Ian and Jared talking about us over the whir of the bathroom fan, like they were prone to do like the stupid men they were.

"... not fair to ask them to choose," Ian was saying. He kept his voice low, but the fan was not loud enough to drown it out. The hotel room was very small.

"Why not? It's fairer to tell them where they’re going to sleep? Don't you think it's more polite—“

"Things are too complicated for them," Ian said. “Everything is complicated with them. They’d want to share with you, then end up not being able to sleep, and feel too guilty to move…”

"Jealous again?"

Ian’s voice went hard. “They haven’t forgotten what happened, Howe.”

There was a silence. Ian was right. He knew us better than most—conflicted and layered as we were, we would have stayed awake and spiraled for hours, though a part of us thought that we wouldn’t have been above crawling to Ian’s bed in the middle of the night if it came to that.

"Fine," Jared snapped. "But if you try cuddling up to me tonight... so help me, O'Shea."

Ian chuckled. "Not to sound overly arrogant, but to be perfectly honest, Jared, were I so inclined, I think I could do better."

It wasn’t that easy to sleep alone, but we probably did sleep better like that than the alternative.

Our nightmares often kept us awake, now.

We didn't have to go to a hotel again. The days started to pass more quickly, as if even the seconds were trying to run home. We could feel a strange western pull on our body. We were all eager to get back to our dark, crowded haven.

Even Jared got careless.

It was late, no sunlight left lingering behind the western mountains. Behind us, Ian and Kyle were taking turns driving the big moving truck loaded with our spoils, just as Jared and we took turns with the van. They had to drive the heavy vehicle more carefully than Jared did the van. The headlights had faded slowly into the distance, until they disappeared around a wide curve in the road.

We were on the homestretch. Tucson was behind us. In a few short hours, we would see Jamie. We would unload the welcome provisions, surrounded by smiling faces. A real homecoming.

My first, we realized.

For once the return would bring nothing but joy. We carried no doomed hostages… this time.

We weren’t paying attention to anything but anticipation. The road didn't seem to be flying by too fast; it couldn't fly past fast enough as far as we were concerned.

The truck's headlights reappeared behind us.

"Kyle must be driving," we murmured. "They're catching up."

And then the red and blue lights suddenly spun out in the dark night behind us. They reflected off all the mirrors, dancing spots of color across the roof, the seats, our frozen faces, and the dashboard, where the needle on the speed gauge showed that we were traveling twenty miles over the speed limit.

The sound of a siren pierced the desert calm.


	20. chapter 48: DETAINED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally picking up again! [eyes emoji]

The red and blue lights swirled in time with the siren's cry.

Before souls had come to this place, these lights and sounds had had only one meaning. The law. The punishers. Now, again, the flashing colors and angry noise had only one meaning. The same meaning. Still the punishers.

Seekers.

It wasn't as common a sight or sound as it had been before. The police force was only needed to help in cases of accidents or other emergencies, not to enforce laws. Most civil servants didn't have vehicles with sirens, unless the vehicle was an ambulance or a fire truck.

This low, sleek car behind us was not for any accident. This was a vehicle made for pursuit. We’d seen it before, in hazy memories of movies from Mel’s childhood. We knew exactly what it meant.

Jared was frozen, his foot still pushing down on the gas pedal. We could almost see the cogs moving in his brain as he tried to find a solution, a way to outrun them in this decrepit van or a way to evade them—to hide our wide white profile in the low, gaunt brush of the desert—without leading them back to the rest. Without giving everyone away. We were so close to the others now. They slumbered, unaware...

When he gave up after two seconds of frantic thought, he exhaled.

"I'm so sorry, Mel, Wanda," he whispered. "I blew it."

"Jared?"

He reached for our hand and eased up on the gas. The car started to slow.

"Got your pill?" he choked.

"Yes," we whispered, almost a sob.

 _No_ , we thought. After everything. _No._

"I love you, Mel. Sorry."

"We love you. More than anything."

A short, aching silence.

"Wanda, I... I care about you, too. You're a good person. You deserve better than what I've given you. Better than this."

He had something small, much too small to be so deadly, between his fingers.

"Wait," we gasped.

He could not die.

"We can't take the chance. We can't outrun them, not in this. If we try to run, a thousand of them will swarm after us. Think of Jamie."

The van was slowing, drifting to the shoulder. We were thinking of _him._

"Give us one try," I begged. We fumbled quickly for the pill in our pocket. We pinched it between our thumb and forefinger and held it up. "We’ll lie our way out of this,” Mel said. She didn’t ask; she sounded sure, even though we were anything but. But if it saved him… “We'll swallow it right away if anything goes wrong."

"You'll never lie your way past a Seeker!"

"Let us try. Quick!" We pulled off our seat belt and crouched beside him, unfastening his. "Switch with us. Fast, before they're close enough to see."

"Mel—”

"One try. Hurry!"

He was the best at split-second decisions. Smooth and fast, he was out of the driver's seat and over our crouched body. We rolled up into his seat while he took ours.

"Seat belt," we ordered tersely. "Close your eyes. Turn your head away."

He did as we said. It was too dark to see it, but his new soft pink scar would be visible from this angle.

We strapped our seat belt on and then leaned our head back.

Lying with the body, that was the key. It was simply a matter of the right movements. Imitation. Like the actors on the TV program, only better. Like a human.

 _We can do this,_ Mel swore. Mel was more suited to this than I, but I was more suited to the souls. Together, we could do it.

It was late. We were tired. We wouldn't have to act that part.

We let our eyelids droop, let our body sag against the seat.

Chagrin. We could do chagrin. We could feel it now.

Our mouth turned down into a sheepish grimace.

The Seekers' car did not park behind us, the way we had kind of expected. It stopped across the road, on the shoulder, facing the wrong way for that lane's traffic flow. A dazzling light exploded through the window of the other car. We blinked into it, raising our hand to shade our face with deliberate slowness. Faintly, past the glare of the spotlight, we saw the gleam of my eyes bounce against the road as we looked down.

A car door slammed. One set of footsteps made a pattern of low thuds as someone crossed the pavement. There was no sound of dirt or rocks, so the Seeker had emerged from the passenger side. Two of them, at least, but only one coming to interrogate us. This was a good sign, a sign of comfort and confidence.

My glowing eyes were a talisman. A compass that could not fail—like the North Star, undoubtable.

Lying with the body was not the key after all. Telling the truth with it was enough. We had something in common with the human baby in the park: nothing like us had ever existed before.

The Seeker's body blocked the light, and we could see again.

It was a man. Probably middle-aged—his features conflicted with one another, making it hard to tell; his hair was all white, but his face was smooth and unwrinkled. He wore a T-shirt and shorts, a blocky gun clearly visible on his hip. One hand rested on the butt of the weapon. In his other hand was a dark flashlight. He didn't turn it on.

"Having a problem, miss?" he said when he was a few feet away. "You were going much too fast for safety."

His eyes were restless. They swiftly appraised our expression—which was, hopefully, sleepy—and then ran along the length of the van, darted into the darkness behind us, flashed forward to the stretch of highway ahead, lit by our headlights, and came back to our face. They repeated the course another time.

He was anxious. This knowledge made us want to curl our hands in fists, but we didn’t. We tried to keep calm.

"I'm so sorry," we apologized in a loud whisper. We glanced at Jared, as if checking to see whether our words had woken him. "I think... well, I think I might have fallen asleep. I didn't realize I was so tired."

We smiled remorsefully. We sounded a bit stiff, but tiredness could explain that. I was a bad liar, but Mel wasn’t.

The Seeker's eyes traced their route again, this time lingering on Jared. Our heart jumped painfully against the inside of our ribs. We pinched the pill tighter.

"It was irresponsible for me to drive for so long without sleep," we said quickly, trying again to smile a little. "I thought we could make it to Phoenix before I would need rest. I'm very sorry."

"What's your name, miss?"

His voice was not harsh, but neither was it warm. He kept it low, though, following our cue.

"Leaves Above," we said, using the name from the last hotel. Would he want to check our story? We might need someplace to refer him to.

"Upside-down Flower?" he guessed. His eyes flickered around their course.

"Yes, I was."

"My partner, too. Were you on the island?"

"No," we said. "The mainland. Between the great rivers."

He nodded, perhaps a little disappointed.

"Should I go back to Tucson?" we asked. "I think I'm quite awake now. Or maybe I should take a nap right here first—"

"No!" he interrupted me in a louder voice.

We jumped, startled, and the little pill slipped from our fingers. It dropped to the metal floor with a faintly audible clink. We felt the blood drain from our face as though a plug had been pulled.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he apologized quickly, his eyes repeating their restless circle. "But you shouldn't linger here."

"Why?" we asked, more tersely than we had meant. Our fingers twitched anxiously at the empty air.

Without the pill, I wouldn’t die with Mel.

"There was a... disappearance recently."

"I don't understand. A disappearance?"

"It could have been an accident... but there might be..." He hesitated, unwilling to say the word. "Humans may be in this area."

"Humans?" we said, far too loud. He heard the fear in our voice and interpreted it the only way he could.

"There's no proof of that, Leaves Above. No sightings or anything. Don't be anxious. But you should proceed on to Phoenix without unnecessary delay."

"Of course. Or maybe Tucson? That would be closer."

"There's no danger. You can continue with your plans."

"If you're sure, Seeker..."

"I'm quite sure. Just don't go wandering off into the desert, Flower." He smiled. The expression warmed his face, making it kind. Just like all the other souls we'd dealt with. He wasn't anxious about us, but for us. He wasn't listening for lies. And he probably wouldn't recognize them if he was. Just another soul.

"I wasn't planning on it." We smiled back at him. "I'll be more careful. I know I couldn't fall asleep now." We glanced at the desert out Jared's window with a wary expression, so the Seeker would think that fear was making us alert. Our expression tensed into a taut mask as we caught sight of a pair of lights reflected in the side mirror.

Jared's spine stiffened at the same time, but he held his pose. It looked too tight.

Our eyes darted back to the Seeker's face.

"I can help with that," he said, still smiling but looking down now as he fumbled to remove something from his pocket.

He hadn't seen the change in our face. We tried to control the muscles in our cheeks, to make them relax, but we couldn't concentrate hard enough to make it happen.

In the rearview mirror, the headlights got closer.

"You should not use this often," the Seeker went on, searching the other pocket now. "It's not harmful, of course, or the Healers wouldn't have us give it out. But if you use it frequently, it will alter your sleep cycles... Ah, here it is. Awake."

The lights slowed as they approached.

 _Just drive by_ , I begged. _Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop_.

 _Let it be Kyle at the wheel_ , Melanie said, thinking the words like a prayer.

_Don't stop. Just drive._

_Don't stop. Just drive._

"Miss?"

We blinked, trying to focus. "Um, Awake?"

"Just inhale this, Leaves Above."

He had a thin white aerosol can in his hand. He sprayed a puff of mist into the air in front of our face. We leaned forward obediently and took a sniff, our eyes darting to the mirror at the same time.

"It's grapefruit scented," the Seeker said. "Nice, don't you think?"

"Very nice." Our brain was suddenly sharp, focused.

The big moving truck slowed and then idled on the road behind us.

 _No!_ we shouted. We searched the dark floor for one half second, hoping against hope that the little pill would be visible. We couldn't even make out our feet.

The Seeker glanced absently at the truck and then waved it forward.

We looked back at the truck, too, a forced smile on our face. We couldn't see who was driving, but it wouldn’t really matter if we could, since Ian and Kyle were so alike. Our eyes reflected the headlights, shot out faint beams of their own.

The truck hesitated.

The Seeker waved again, more broadly this time. "Go ahead," he muttered to himself.

_Drive! Drive! Drive!_

Beside us, Jared's hand was clenched in a fist.

Slowly, the big truck shuddered into first gear and then inched forward through the space between the Seeker's vehicle and ours. The Seeker's spotlight outlined two silhouettes, two black profiles, both facing straight forward. The one in the driver's seat had a crooked nose.

We exhaled in relief.

"How do you feel?"

"Alert," we told the Seeker.

"It will wear off in about four hours."

"Thank you."

The Seeker chuckled. "Thank you, Leaves Above. When we saw you racing down the road, we thought we might have humans on our hands. I was sweating, but not from the heat!"

We shuddered.

"Don't worry. You'll be perfectly fine. If you'd like, we can follow you to Phoenix."

"I'm just fine. You don't need to trouble yourself."

"It was nice to meet you. I'll be pleased when my shift is over, so that I can go home and tell my partner I met another green-first Flower. She'll be so excited."

"Oh. Tell her, ‘Brightest sun, longest day' for me," we said, giving him the Earthly translation of the common greeting and farewell on the Flower Planet.

"Certainly. Have a pleasant journey."

"And you have a pleasant night."

He stepped back, and the spotlight hit our eyes again. We blinked furiously.

"Cut it, Hank," the Seeker said, shading his eyes as he turned to walk toward the car. The night turned black again, and we forced another smile toward the invisible Seeker named Hank.

We started the engine with shaking hands.

The Seekers were faster. The little black car with the incongruous light bar atop it purred to life. It executed a sharp U-turn, and then the taillights were all we could see. They disappeared quickly into the night.

We pulled back onto the road. Our heart pumped the blood through our veins in hard little bursts. We could feel the fierce pulse throbbing through to our fingertips.

"They're gone," we whispered through our suddenly chattering teeth.

We heard Jared swallow.

"That was... close," he said.

"We thought Kyle was going to stop."

"Me, too."

Neither of us could speak above a whisper.

"The Seeker bought it." His teeth were still clenched in anxiety.

"Yes. We said we could lie our way out of it."

“I don’t think a human would have bought it that easy.”

We shrugged. Our body was so rigid, it all moved together. "They can't not believe us. What we are... well, it's something impossible. Something that shouldn't exist."

"Something unbelievable," he agreed. "Something wonderful."

We glanced at him, breath caught in our throat. What could he mean by that? What did he mean by that?

 _He calls us wonderful, but he still wants to kill us_ , Mel said softly.

"Seekers aren't all that different from the rest of them," I murmured to myself instead of answering. "Nothing to be especially afraid of."

He shook his head back and forth slowly. "There really isn't anything you can't do, is there?"

We weren’t sure how to respond to that.

"Having you with us is going to change everything," he continued under his breath, talking to himself now.

 _We can protect them_ , Mel said, smiling at him. _Together, you and me, we can do it._

 _I guess anything has a good side_ , I agreed.

My words upset her, but I didn’t want to see why, mostly because I already knew.

The slow-moving taillights did not frighten us when they appeared on the road ahead. They were familiar, a relief. We sped up—just a little, still a few miles below the limit—to pass them.

Jared pulled a flashlight out of the glove compartment. We understood what he was doing: reassurance.

He held the light to his own eyes as we passed the cab of the truck. We looked past him, through the other window. Kyle nodded once at Jared and took a deep breath. Ian was leaning anxiously around him, his eyes focused on us. We waved once, and he grimaced.

We were getting close to our hidden exit.

"Should we go all the way to Phoenix?"

Jared thought about it. "No. They might see us on the way back and stop us again. I don't think they're following. They're focused on the road."

"No, they won't follow." We were sure of this.

"Let's go home, then."

"Home," we agreed wholeheartedly.

We killed the lights, and so did Kyle behind us.

We would take both vehicles right to the caves and unload quickly so they could be hidden before morning. The little overhang by the entrance would not hide them from view.

We rolled our eyes as we thought of the way into and out of the caves. The big mystery we hadn't been able to solve for myself. Jeb was so tricky.

Tricky—just like the directions he'd given us, the lines he'd carved onto the back of that photo album. They didn't lead to his cave hideout at all. No, instead they made the person following them parade back and forth in front of his secret place, giving him ample opportunity to decide whether or not to extend an invitation inside.

"What do you think happened?" Jared asked, interrupting our thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"The recent disappearance the Seeker mentioned."

We stared ahead blankly. "Wouldn't that be us?"

"I don't think you would count as recent, Wanda. Besides, they weren't watching the freeway before we left. That's new. They're looking for us. Here."

His eyes narrowed, while mine widened.

"What have they been doing?" Jared suddenly exploded, slapping his hand loudly against the dashboard. We jumped, then cringed.

"You think Jeb and the others…?"

He didn't answer; he just stared out across the star-bright desert with furious eyes.

We had thought the same thing.

Doc and Jeb could have been taking advantage of our absence. Jeb had only agreed to stop slaughtering people and souls while we were under the same roof. Was this their compromise?

"You okay?" Jared asked.

We cringed away from him. We couldn’t deal with Doc and Jeb doing something like that, but the thought of Jared in this context—We couldn’t.

Our throat was too thick to answer anyway. We shook our head. Tears gathered in our eyes and we did not let them fall.

 _It could have been his idea, for all that he seems angry now_ , I whispered, and Mel didn’t answer. She didn’t want to think about it either.

"Maybe I'd better drive."

We shook our head sharply.

He didn't argue with us.

We were still like that—tearing up without crying—when we got to the little mountain that hid our vast cave system. It was actually just a hill—an insignificant outcropping of volcanic rock, like so many others, sparsely decorated with spindly creosote and flat-bladed prickly pears. The thousands of tiny vents were invisible, lost in the jumble of loose purple rocks. Somewhere, smoke would be rising, black on black.

We got out of the van and leaned against the door, wiping at our eyes. Jared came to stand beside us. He hesitated, then put a hand on our shoulder. We tried not to flinch and succeeded.

"Sorry. I didn't know they were planning this. I had no idea. They shouldn't have..."

But he only thought that because they'd somehow gotten caught.

The moving truck rumbled to a stop behind us. Two doors slammed shut, and then feet were running toward us.

"What happened?" Kyle demanded, there first.

Ian was right behind him. He took one look at our expression, at the tears still running down our cheeks, at Jared's hand on my shoulder, and then rushed forward and threw his arms around us. He pulled me into his chest. We didn't know why this made us start to cry, the tears sliding down our face. We lowered it to his shoulder.

"It's okay. You did great. It's over."

"Seeker's not the problem, Ian," Jared said, voice strained, his hand still touching us, though he had to lean forward to preserve that point of contact.

"Huh?"

"They were watching the road for a reason. Sounds like Doc's been... working in our absence."

We shuddered, and for a moment, it seemed like we could taste silver blood in the back of our throat. Mel’s protectiveness rose furiously, mixing anger with the sorrow.

"Why, those—!" Ian's fury robbed him of speech. He couldn't finish his sentence.

"Nice," Kyle said in a disgusted tone. "Idiots. We're gone for a few weeks, and they've got the Seekers on patrol. They could have just asked us to—"

"Shut up, Kyle," Jared said harshly. "That's neither here nor there at the moment. We've got to get this all unloaded fast. Who knows how many are watching for us? Let's grab a load and then get some more hands."

We shook Ian off so that we could help. It was no use standing around and crying while there was work to be done. Ian stayed close to our side, taking the heavy flat of canned soup we picked up and replacing it with a big but light box of pasta. We rolled our eyes and he smiled, and we realized he was trying to distract us.

We started down the steep pathway in, Jared leading. The utter blackness did not bother us. We still didn't know this path well, but it wasn't difficult. Straight down, then straight up.

We were halfway there when a familiar voice called out from a distance. It echoed down the tunnel, fracturing.

"They're back... ack... back!" Jamie was shouting.

We tried to compose ourselves.

A blue light approached, bouncing as the carrier ran. Then Jamie bounded into view.

His face threw us.

We were trying to compose myself to greet him, assuming he would be joyful and not wanting to upset him. But Jamie was already upset. His face was white and tense, his eyes rimmed in red. His dirty cheeks had rivulets through the dust there, tracks made by tears.

"Jamie?" we said along with Jared, dropping our boxes to the floor.

Jamie ran straight for us and threw his arms around our waist.

"Oh, Mel! Oh, Wanda! " he sobbed. "Wes is dead! He's dead! The Seeker killed him!"


	21. chapter 49: INTERROGATED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, skipped a Thursday. Sorry, guys! I did notice it on Friday, but by then I thought to just wait until Monday, when there would be a new chap anyway. I really liked writing this chap. Tell me what you think? I hope you like it :D

I killed Wes.

Our hands, scratched and bruised and painted with purple dust in the course of the frantic unloading, might as well have been painted red with his blood.

Wes was dead, and it was as much my fault as if I'd pulled the trigger myself.

All of us but five were gathered in the kitchen now that the truck was unloaded, eating some of the perishables we'd picked up on the final shopping trip—cheese and fresh bread with milk—and listening to Jeb and Doc as they explained everything to Jared, Ian, and Kyle.

We sat a little space away from the others, our head in our hands, too numb with grief and guilt to ask questions the way they did. Jamie sat with us. He patted our back now and then.

Wes was already buried in the dark grotto beside Walter. He had died four days ago, the night that we and Jared and Ian had sat watching the family in the park. We would never see our friend again, never hear his voice...

Tears splashed on the stone beneath us, and Jamie's pats increased in tempo.

 _It’s not our fault_ , Mel tried weakly. But the tears were hers too; she leaned against Jamie, knocking our head against his.

Andy and Paige were not here.

They'd driven the truck and the van back to their hiding places. They would take the jeep from there to its usual rough garage, and then they'd have to walk the rest of the way home. They would be back before sunrise.

Lily was not here.

"She's not... doing so well," Jamie had murmured when he'd caught us scanning the room for her. We didn't want to know any more. We could imagine well enough.

Aaron and Brandt were not here.

Brandt now bore a smooth, pink, circular scar in the hollow space beneath his left collarbone. The bullet had missed his heart and lungs by a hair and then burrowed halfway through his shoulder blade trying to escape. Doc had used most of the Heal getting it out of him. Brandt was fine now.

Wes's bullet had been better aimed. It had pierced his high olive-skinned forehead and blown out the back of his head. There was nothing Doc could have done, even if he'd been right there with them, a gallon of Heal at his disposal.

Brandt, who now carried in a holster on his hip a boxy, heavy trophy from the encounter, was with Aaron. They were in the tunnel where we would have stored our spoils if it had not been occupied. If it was not being used as a prison again.

As if losing Wes was not enough.

It seemed hideously wrong that the numbers remained the same. Thirty-five living bodies, just like before we'd come to the caves. Wes and Walter were gone, but we were here.

And now so was the Seeker.

My Seeker.

 _Our Seeker_ , Mel argued.

I pressed our palms more firmly to our eyes, but Mel gentled them.

If only I weren’t here. If I had just skipped this planet and gone somewhere entirely different. If I'd given myself as a Mother like anyone else would have after five or six planets. If, if, if... If I had not come here, if I had not given the Seeker the clues she needed to follow, then Wes would be alive. It had taken her longer than me to figure them out, but when she did, she didn't have to pursue them with caution. She'd barreled through the desert in an all-terrain SUV, leaving bright new scars across the fragile desert landscape, each pass getting closer.

They had to do something. They had to stop her.

I had killed Wes.

 _They would still have caught me_ , Mel said.

I recoiled from the thought and Jamie looked up at us, worried. Mel smiled down at him, reassuring, and wound our arms around our waist instead of keeping our hands over our eyes, like she wanted to hug me. Our eyes teared up again, new tears sliding down.

 _It’s her fault, not ours_ , Mel said.

 _Why did she have to follow us?_ I moaned. _We’re not hurting the other souls here, not really. We’re even saving some of their lives by being here, by keeping Doc from his doomed efforts. Why did she have to follow?_

 _Why did they keep her?_ Mel snarled. _Why didn't they kill her right away? Or kill her slow—I don't care how! Why is she still alive?_

Fear and rage fluttered in our stomach. The Seeker was alive; the Seeker was here.

We shouldn’t have been afraid of her.

Of course, it made sense to be afraid that her disappearance would bring the other Seekers down on us. Everyone was afraid of that. Spying on the search for this body, the humans had seen how vocal she was about her convictions. She'd been trying to convince the other Seekers that there were humans hiding in this desert wasteland. None seemed to take her seriously. They had gone home; she was the only one who kept looking.

But now she'd vanished in the middle of her search. That changed everything.

Her vehicle had been moved far away, left in the desert on the other side of Tucson. It looked as though she'd disappeared in the same way it was believed we had: pieces of her bag left torn nearby, the snacks she'd carried with her chewed open and scattered. Would the other souls accept such a coincidence?

We already knew they would not. Not entirely. They were looking. Would the search become more intense?

But to be afraid of the Seeker herself... That didn't make much sense. She was physically insignificant, probably smaller than Jamie. We were stronger and faster than she was. We were surrounded by friends and allies, and she, inside these caves at least, was all alone. Two guns, the rifle and her own Glock—the very gun Ian had once envied, the gun that had killed our friend—were trained on her at every moment. Only one thing had kept her alive until now, and it couldn't save her for long.

Jeb had thought we might want to talk to her. That was all.

Now that we were back, she was condemned to die within hours whether we spoke to her or not.

So why did we feel as though we were at the disadvantage? Why this strange premonition that she would be the one to walk away from our confrontation?

 _I don’t know if I want to talk to her_ , I admitted.

 _I do,_ Mel said. _Well, I want to spit on her face. I’m not sure that constitutes talking._

But Mel was afraid, too.

We told Jeb we hadn’t decided if we wanted to talk to her yet.

We didn’t, really. We were terrified to ever see her face again—a face that, no matter how we tried, we could not imagine looking frightened.

But if we told them we had no desire for conversation, Aaron would shoot her. It would be like we'd given him the order to fire. Like we'd pulled the trigger.

Or worse, Doc would try to cut her out of the human body. We flinched away from the memory of the silver blood smeared all over the hands of our friend.

 _They’re just going to shoot her_ , Mel argued, trying to convince herself as well as me.

Should this comfort me? I couldn't avoid the imagined tableau. Aaron, the Seeker's gun in his hand; the Seeker's body slowly crumpling to the stone floor, the red blood pooling around her...

_We don't have to watch._

_That wouldn't stop it from happening._

_But we want her to die_ , Mel said, a bit more frantic, _right? She killed Wes. Besides, she can't stay alive. No matter what._

She was right about everything, of course. It was true that there was no way the Seeker could stay alive. Imprisoned, she would work doggedly to escape. Freed, she would quickly be the death of all our family.

Me and Mel hadn’t been this divided about something in a long time.

It was true the Seeker had killed Wes. He was so young and so loved. His death left a burning agony in its wake. I understood the claim of human justice that demanded her life in return. I felt it. I did want her dead.

I did. I wanted her dead.

"Wanda? Mel?"

Jamie shook our arm. It took us a moment to realize that someone had called our names. Perhaps many times already.

"Girls?" Jeb's voice asked again.

We looked up. He was standing over us. His face was expressionless, the blank facade that meant he was in the grip of some strong emotion. His poker face.

"The boys want to know if you have any questions for the Seeker."

We put one hand to our forehead, trying to block the images there. "If we don't?"

"They're ready to be done with guard duty. It's a hard time. They'd rather be with their friends right now."

We nodded. "Okay. We'd better... go and see her already, then." We shoved ourselves away from the wall and to our feet. Our hands were shaking, so we clenched them into fists.

 _We have no idea what we’re doing_ , I muttered.

 _Why are we prolonging the inevitable?_ Mel asked quietly, starting to walk.

I shook our head minutely, not caring that Jeb and Jamie were sending us strange looks for it.

 _You want to save her,_ Melanie said, more accusation than not.

_There's no way to do that._

_No. There isn't. And you want her dead anyway. So let them shoot her. We feel guilty but we won’t feel that way forever._

I cringed.

"You okay?" Jamie asked.

We nodded, not trusting our voice enough to speak.

"You don't have to," Jeb told us, his eyes sharp on our face.

"It's okay," we whispered.

Jamie's hand wrapped around ours, but we shook it off. "Stay here, Jamie."

"I'll come with you guys."

“No,” we snapped, spine straightening up. We glared down at him. “She’s a _Seeker._ No way.”

“ _You_ ’re going,” he argued. “If she’s dangerous, you shouldn’t go either.”

“We sat with her for _weeks_ as she tried to get information on you out of us,” we said, too harsh. “No.”

We stared at each other for a moment, and for once we won the argument. He stuck his chin out stubbornly but slouched back against the wall.

Ian, too, seemed inclined to follow us out of the kitchen, but we stopped him in his tracks with a single look. Jared watched us go with an unfathomable expression.

"She's a complainer," Jeb told us in a low voice as we walked back toward the hole. "Not quiet like you were. Always asking for more—food, water, pillows... She threatens a lot, too. ‘The Seekers will get you all!' That kinda thing. It's been hard on Brandt especially. She's pushed his temper right to the edge."

We nodded. This did not surprise us one bit.

"She hasn't tried to escape, though. A lot of talk and no action. Once the guns come up, she backs right down."

We recoiled.

"My guess is, she wants to live pretty dang bad," Jeb murmured to himself.

"Are you sure this is the safest place to keep her?" we asked as we started down the black, twisting tunnel.

Jeb chuckled. "You didn't find your way out," he reminded us. "Sometimes the best hiding place is the one that's in plain sight."

Our answer was flat. "She's more motivated than we were."

"The boys're keepin' a sharp eye on her. Nothin' to worry about."

We were almost there. The tunnel turned back on itself in a sharp V.

How many times had we rounded this corner, our hand tracing along the inside of the pointed switchback, just like this? We'd never traced along the outside wall. It was uneven, with jutting rocks that would leave bruises and cause us to trip. Staying on the inside was a shorter walk anyway.

When they'd first showed us that the V was not a V but a Y—two branches forking off from another tunnel, the tunnel—we'd felt pretty stupid. Like Jeb said, hiding things in plain sight was sometimes the cleverest route. The times we'd been desperate enough to even consider escaping the caves, our mind had skipped right over this place in our speculations. This was the hole, the prison. In our head, it was the darkest, deepest well in the caves. This was where they'd buried us.

A few paces away from the exit.

 _If we had really died here, the irony of it would have brought me back just to punch Uncle Jeb in the face_ , Mel said.

It wasn't even the only exit. But the other was small and tight, a crawl space. We hadn't found that one because we'd walked into these caves standing upright. We hadn't been looking for that kind of tunnel. Besides, we'd never explored the edges of Doc's hospital; we'd avoided it from the beginning.

The voice, familiar even though it seemed part of another life, interrupted our thoughts.

"I wonder how you're still alive, eating like this. Ugh!"

Something plastic clattered against the rocks.

We could see the blue light as we rounded the last corner.

"I didn't know humans had the patience to starve someone to death. That seems like too complex a plan for you shortsighted creatures to grasp."

Jeb chuckled. "Gotta say, I'm impressed with those boys. Surprised they held up this long."

We turned into the lit dead-end tunnel. Brandt and Aaron, both sitting as far as possible from the end of the tunnel where the Seeker paced, both with guns in their hands, sighed with relief when they saw us approaching.

"Finally," Brandt muttered. His face was etched in hard lines of grief.

The Seeker halted in her pacing.

We were surprised to see the conditions she was kept in.

She was not stuffed into the tiny cramped hole, but comparatively free, stomping to and fro across the short width of the tunnel. On the floor, against the flat end of the tunnel, were a mat and a pillow. A plastic tray was tilted at an angle against the wall at about the midpoint of the cave; a few jicama roots lay scattered near it with a soup bowl. A little soup was splattered out from where that lay. This explained the clatter we'd just heard—she'd thrown her food. It looked as though she'd eaten most of it first, though.

We stared at this relatively humane setup, then turned to stare at Jeb.

“She killed Wes. You kept _us_ in a _hole_ ,” we said, too furious to sound anything but calm. It was hard, feeling this protective over oneself; I couldn’t stand the thought of Mel suffering while the Seeker was comparatively _pampered_ , while Mel raged at how they had treated me in turn.

Jeb winced, but before he could say anything, Brandt spoke.

"You want a minute with her?" he asked, and the pain stabbed again. Had Brandt ever referred to us using a feminine pronoun? We weren’t surprised that Jeb had done this for the Seeker, but everyone else?

"Yes," we said.

"Careful," Aaron cautioned. "She's an angry little thing."

We nodded.

The others stayed where they were. We walked down the tunnel alone.

It was hard to lift our eyes, to meet the gaze that we could feel like cold fingers pressing against our face. But we did, and we didn’t flinch.

The Seeker was glaring at us, a harsh sneer twisting her features. We'd never seen a soul use that expression before.

"Well, hello there, Melanie," she mocked us. "What took you so long to come visit?"

“I was out,” Mel said, walking slowly towards her. The hatred coursing through our body made us feel aflame, but we were too smart not to know that it was born out of fear.

The Seeker flinched as if expecting us to shout. Mel’s low, even voice seemed to upset her more than the scream she anticipated. But after a moment, she narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth.

"Did your little friends think I would talk to you? Spill all my secrets because you carry a gagged and lobotomized soul around in your head, reflecting through your eyes?" She laughed abrasively.

We stopped two long strides away from her, our body tensed to run. She made no aggressive move toward us, but we could not relax our muscles. This was not like meeting the Seeker on the highway—we didn't have the usual sensation of safety that we felt around the gentle souls. Again, the strange conviction that she would live long after we were gone swept through us.

"So, what do you want? Did you request permission to kill me personally, Melanie?" the Seeker hissed.

“I’m waiting,” Melanie said dryly. “Wanderer seems to be gathering her thoughts.”

The Seeker’s expression twisted at the mention of my name. We couldn’t tell if out of disgust or horror.

I examined her face while she glared at us with her bulging eyes. It was dirty, stained with purple dust and dried sweat. Other than that, there wasn't a mark on it. Not a single one.

"Gathering her thoughts," she repeated in a flat voice. "The dead soul in the back of your brain, gathering her thoughts. Well, what are you waiting for? Didn't they give you the okay? Were you planning to use your bare hands or my gun?"

“We’re not the ones who’ll kill you,” Mel said, waving a dismissive hand. She really was a good liar; the Seeker probably couldn’t see any of the fear we were feeling right now.

She smiled sourly. "To interrogate me, then? Where are your instruments of torture?"

I cringed. "We won't hurt you."

Insecurity flickered across her face and then vanished behind her sneer. "What are they keeping me for, then? Do they think I can be tamed, like your pet soul?"

"No,” I said softly. “They just... they didn't want to kill you until they had... consulted us. Me and Mel. In case we wanted to talk to you first."

Her lids lowered, narrowing her protruding eyes. "Do you have something to say?"

I swallowed. "I was wondering..." I only had the same question we'd been unable to answer for ourselves. "Why? Why couldn't you let us be dead, like the rest of them? Why were you so determined to hunt us down? We didn't want to hurt anyone. We just wanted... to go our own way."

She leaped up onto her toes, shoving her face toward ours. Someone moved behind us, but we couldn't hear more than that—she was shouting in our face.

"Because I was right!" she shrieked. "More than right! Look at them all! A vile nest of killers, lurking in wait! Just like I thought, only so much worse! I knew you were out here with them! One of them! I told them there was danger! I told them!"

She stopped, panting, and took a step back from us, staring over our shoulder. We didn't look away to see what had made her retreat. We assumed it had something to do with what Jeb had just told me—once the guns come up, she backs right down. We analyzed her expression for a moment as her heavy breathing slowed.

"But they didn't listen to you. So you came for us alone."

The Seeker didn't answer. She took another step back from us, doubt twisting her expression. She looked oddly vulnerable for a second, as if our words had stripped away the shield she'd been hiding behind.

"They'll look for you, but in the end, they never believed you at all, did they?" we said, watching as each word was confirmed in her desperate eyes. Our hands curled in fists. We had no reason to fear her after all. "So they won't take the search further than that. When they don't find you, their interest will fade. We'll be careful, as usual. They won't find us."

Now we could see true fear in her eyes for the first time. The terrible knowledge that we were right. And we felt better for our nest of humans, our family. We were right. They would be safe.

Yet, incongruously, I didn't feel any better for myself.

I had no more questions for the Seeker. When we walked away, she would die. Would they wait until we were far enough not to hear the shot? Was there anywhere in the caves that was far enough for that?

I stared at her angry, fearful face, and I knew how deeply I hated her. How much I never wanted to see that face again for the rest of my lives. Me, apart from Mel.

The hate that made it impossible for me to allow her to die.

"I don't know how to save you," I whispered, too low for the humans to hear. Why did that sound like a lie in our ears? "I can't think of a way."

Mel dug our fingers into our palms until it _hurt_ , but didn’t interrupt.

"Why would you want to? You're one of them!" But a spasm of hope sparked in her eyes. Jeb was right. All the bluster, all the threats... She wanted to live.

We nodded at her accusation, a little absently because I was thinking hard and fast. "But still me," I murmured. "I don't want... I don't want..."

How to finish that sentence? I didn't want... the Seeker to die? No. That wasn't true.

I didn't want... to hate the Seeker? To hate her so much that I wanted her to die. To have her die while I hated her. Almost as if she died because of my hate.

If I truly did not want her death, would I be able to think of a way to save her? Was it my hate that was blocking an answer? Would I be responsible if she died?

 _Are you fucking crazy?_ Mel protested. _No! That’s a no to all of those! This isn’t on you, she’s the one who was out here trying to kill us all!_

She'd killed our friend, shot him dead in the desert, broken Lily's heart. She'd put our family in danger. As long as she lived, she was a danger to them. To Ian, to Jamie, to Jared. To Mel. She would do everything in her power to see them all dead.

 _But,_ I started, and didn’t know how the phrase would end until the words were out: _what if I could save her if I wanted?_

She was trying to kill us all.

“You can’t live,” Mel said, fired up enough that the words escaped our mouth. The Seeker cringed. “You’re dangerous.”

_But... what if I can do both? What if I can save her life and keep everyone here safe at the same time?_

A heavy wave of nausea rolled in our stomach as I saw the answer I'd been trying to believe didn't exist.

The only wall I'd ever built between Melanie and me crumbled to dust. It had been dust for a long time now, truly, but neither of us had had reason to think of it. Now there was.

Our eyes widened. We took a step back.

“No,” Mel breathed out. “ _No._ ”

The answer I must have known I would find. The answer that explained my strange premonition.

Because I could save the Seeker. Of course I could. But it would cost me. A trade. What had Kyle said? A life for a life.

The Seeker stared at us, her dark eyes full of venom.


	22. chapter 50: SACRIFICED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I forget another Thursday? Yes. Am I going to make you guys wait for Monday again? No. I love this chapter too much to do that. Comments and reviews are very much appreciated! I know I've changed a lot, so tell me what you think, and thank you very much! I hope you guys like this one :)

The Seeker scrutinized our face while Mel and I fought. I tried to keep our argument internal; Brandt was already looking at us with narrowed eyes, wondering why we were suddenly acting so odd.

_Wanderer, no!_

_Don't be stupid, Mel. You of all people should see the potential of this choice._

I tried to look at the happy ending, tried to make her do it with me, but we couldn't escape the horror of this choice. This was the secret I should die to protect. The information I'd been desperate to keep safe no matter what hideous torture I was put through.

I could not claim to be an expatriate if I did this. No, I would be purely a traitor.

 _Why do this for her?_ Mel howled; she wanted to burst out, to scream out loud. _We don’t owe her anything! Why save her?_

_Should I wait? Wait until they catch another soul? An innocent soul whom I have no reason to hate? I'll have to make the decision sometime._

“Not _now!_ Think about this!” Mel shouted.

Our stomach rolled again, and we had to hunch our body forward and take a deep breath. We just managed not to gag.

A hand landed on our shoulder and dragged us back, away from the Seeker.

“What’s goin’ on?” Jeb asked, clearly concerned.

“She’s going crazy!” the Seeker snarled.

 _We would have to do this eventually_ , I whispered.

 _Why?_ Mel moaned.

"Are you two all right?"

The Seeker glared past us, toward Jeb's voice.

"Fine, Uncle Jeb," I gasped. Our voice was breathy, strained. We were surprised at how bad it sounded. “No, it’s—not,” Melanie argued, trying to set our expression to stone.

The Seeker's dark eyes flickered between us, unsure. Then she recoiled from us, cringing into the wall. We recognized the pose—remembered exactly how it felt to hold it. Brandt must have shifted, moved his gun.

Jeb spun us around.

"What's going on with you, hon?" Jeb asked.

"We need a minute," I told him breathlessly. I had to get us out of here before Mel screamed everything to everyone. "We—need a minute. Can you just—wait for us? We can—we just need—to talk. To each other."

"Sure, we can wait a little while more. Take a breather. You look like you need it."

We nodded and walked as quickly as we could from the prison. Our legs were stiff with terror at first, but we found our stride as we moved. By the time we passed Aaron and Brandt, we were almost running.

"What happened?" we heard Aaron whisper to Brandt, his voice bewildered.

We weren’t sure where to hide while we argued. Our feet, like a shuttle on automatic pilot, took us through the corridors toward our sleeping room. We could only hope that it would be empty.

It was dark, barely any light from the stars trickling down through the cracked ceiling. We didn't see Lily ‘till we tripped over her in the darkness.

We almost didn't recognize her tear-swollen face. She was curled into a tight, tiny ball on the floor in the middle of the passageway. Her eyes were wide, not quite comprehending who we were.

"Why?" she asked us.

We stared at her wordlessly.

"I said that life and love go on. But why do they? They shouldn't. Not anymore. What's the point?"

“We don't know, Lily. We’re not sure what the point is."

"Why?" she asked again, not speaking to us anymore. Her glassy eyes looked right through us.

We stepped carefully past her and hurried to our room. To my great relief, the room was empty. We stood by the mattress where we slept with Jamie and trembled finely with everything we were feeling.

“We can do it,” I said, staring at the wall. “I can save the Seeker’s life. I know how.”

It would not endanger any of the lives here. Except my own. I would have to trade that.

“No.” Melanie tried to be firm through her panic. “You can’t. Save her in any other way.”

 _Please let me think,_ I begged.

“No,” she snarled, twisting around and clutching at our hair. She started to pace. “You can’t be thinking this.” I gentled our hold on our hair. “It’s inevitable,” I whispered, and our body gentled as well, drooping where we stood. “I can see that now. I should have seen it long ago. It’s so obvious.”

_It isn’t!_

“You don’t want to be erased,” I said, parroting the words she had said to me after we were wrenched apart by Jared, after we had fused ourselves together in horror. I could see now that while I had suffered for the souls, the bone-deep terror at how Jared had meant to do that to _me_ had been all Mel’s. Her fear for my life. It made all of this worse. It did.

I had lied to Jared, then. I had told him that I didn't know how to make myself not exist. In the context of our discussion, it was true. I didn't know how to fade away, here inside Melanie. But I was surprised I hadn't heard the obvious lie right then, hadn't seen in that moment what I was seeing now. Of course I knew how to make myself not exist.

It was just that I had never considered that option viable, ultimate betrayal that it was to every soul on this planet.

Once the humans knew that I had this answer, the one they had murdered for over and over again, it would cost me.

It would cost me, saving Melanie.

 _No_ , Mel said.

“No,” she repeated, tears sliding own our face through our furious mask. “I can’t protect them alone. I can’t protect them like we can. You can’t do this to us. You can’t go ahead and kill yourself. Not for _her!_ ”

I sat us down on the mattress, suddenly too spent to even stand up anymore.

“For _you_ ,” I whispered, voice warped by our tears. “Mel, we can’t both exist. It doesn’t work like that. We can’t be together and not disappear, remember?”

 _You don’t want to be erased either_ , she snapped like it was an accusation.

I swallowed nothing.

_It wouldn’t be the same. Death wouldn’t be…_

Mel opened her mouth, preparing to say something—and shut it close. I knew what she had been going to say. _I’d prefer to be erased, then, than to have you do this._ But she didn’t say it. She didn’t, because it wasn’t the truth.

“It isn’t meant to work like this,” I whispered, lifting our hands to our face. “We’ll—erode, with time. We’ll lose ourselves. We’ll become whoever it is we’re becoming, and both Melanie and Wanderer will be lost. Mel, don’t you want to be _free?_ ”

Free of these spirals of feelings, free of this horror, of the resentment, of the mess that we were together. Free to be herself, uncomplicated. Melanie Stryder in Melanie Stryder’s body, the one she had been born in, then one that was _hers._ It was never meant to be a _body._ It was nothing without _her._

It could be her again, without me.

Melanie paused.

 _I wouldn't ask you for this_ , she said. _I wouldn’t do it for you. Don’t do this. Don’t kill us._

“I can give them the world,” I whispered. “I can give you back to them. All three of you, the way it was before we were all here in the caves, like Jamie wants. –You know he didn’t mean it like that,” Mel interrupted with a snap.

 _He did_ , I said, sad.

“Maybe Jared would have asked, eventually,” I mused. “You know I wouldn’t have said no.”

 _I would have_ , Mel snarled. _I wouldn’t let him touch you with a ten-foot fucking pole! Ian's right. You're too self-sacrificing. You don't have any limits. You need limits, Wanderer!_

 _Ah, Ian,_ we moaned. A new pain twisted through us, surprisingly close to our heart. I didn’t want to think about Ian. Mel jumped on it like a shark scenting blood.

_You'll take the whole world away from him. Everything he wants._

_It would never work with him_ , I said. _He doesn’t… he sees us and he loves us, but he pretends he only loves me because loving you would be—complicated, because of Jared. Even if I stay…_

 _But he would prefer you_ alive _, even if we wouldn’t be with him!_

 _I can’t do anything for him_ , I said, small.

 _Wanderer, I..._ Melanie struggled for words. Her rage and panic had been quickly diminished to a quiet desperation. _I can’t let you do this. You’re more important than this, the group depends on you. We can help them. We can save them. I can’t do anything alone. You have to stay._

“Mel,” I said, and it hurt. It hurt to say her name. I loved her so badly it was a wound, worse than any Ian or Jared had ever given us. We cried in earnest now, alone-together in this room. “I have to go. I have to give you yourself back. I already knew we souls were wrong to come here. So I don't have any choice now but to do the right thing, and leave. You all survived without me before; you'll do it again. You've learned so much about the souls from me—you'll help them. Can't you see? This is the happy ending. It's the way they all need the story to finish. I can give them hope. I can give them... not a future. Maybe not that. But as much as I can. Everything I can.”

She couldn’t say anything. We just sobbed, arms and hands so tight around each other that our knuckles were white.

“I can’t lose you,” Mel sobbed.

Even if Jared had never asked me for this, even if Jared did not exist... Once this path had occurred to me, I would have had to proceed down it. I loved her that much. More than anyone else.

No wonder the success rate for resistant hosts was so low here on Earth. Once we learned to love our human host, what hope did we souls have? We could not exist at the expense of someone we loved. Not a soul. A soul could not live that way.

I looked down at our body—at Mel’s body.

Her hands were dirty and scratched, but under the surface blemishes, they were beautiful. The skin was a pretty sun-browned color; even bleached in the pale light, it was pretty. The nails were chewed short but still healthy and smooth, with little half moons of white at the bases. I fluttered her fingers, watching the muscles pull the bones in graceful patterns. I let them dance against the light, watching them move.

I ran them through her hair. It was long now, halfway down our back, the way Mel liked it. After a few weeks of shampoo in hotel showers and Health vitamins, it was glossy and soft again.

I stretched her arms out as far as they would go, tugging against the tendons until some of her joints cracked. Her arms felt strong. They could pull us up a mountainside, they could carry a heavy load, they could plow a field. But they were also soft. They could hold a child, they could comfort a friend, they could love... but that was not for me.

I took a deep breath, and tears welled out of the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

I tensed the muscles in her legs, felt their ready strength and speed. I wanted to run, to have an open field that I could race across just to see how fast we could go. I wanted to do this barefoot, so I could feel the earth beneath her feet. I wanted to feel the wind fly through her hair. I wanted it to rain, so that I could smell it in the air as we ran.

Her feet flexed and pointed slowly, to the rhythm of our breathing. In and out. Flex and point. It felt nice.

I traced her face with her fingertips. They were warm on her skin, skin that was smooth and pretty. I was glad to give Melanie her face back the way it had been. I closed her eyes and stroked her eyelids.

I'd lived in so many bodies, but never one I loved like this. Never one that I craved in this way. Of course, this would be the one I'd have to give up. This body who was me. Who was us.

The irony made us laugh wetly, and I concentrated on the feel of the air that popped in little bubbles from her chest and up through her throat. Laughter was like a fresh breeze—it cleaned its way through the body, making everything feel good. Did other species have such a simple healer? I couldn't remember one.

I touched her lips softly, fingertips feather-light against this sensitive mouth. The lips parted under my touch, and Mel closed her eyes. I remembered how it felt to kiss Jared, and how it felt to kiss Ian. Not everyone got to kiss so many other beautiful bodies. I'd had more than some, even in this short time.

I had never kissed Mel. I never would. I kissed the fingers I was holding against that mouth, soft and sweet, because that was the closest we could ever get. I would have given up anyone for her. I would have died in a thousand deserts to go back to her, if she needed me.

This body was hers. It did not belong to me, or to an _us._

It was just that my time here had been so short! Maybe a year now, I wasn't completely sure. Just one quick revolution of a blue green planet around an unexceptional yellow star. The shortest life of any I'd ever lived.

The shortest, the most important, the most heartbreaking of lives. The life that would forever define me. The life that had finally tied me to one star, to one planet, to one small family of strangers. To another person. To her. My soulmate.

A little more time... would that be so wrong?

 _No_ , Mel whispered. She had stayed quiet, allowing me my reverie, but now she opened our eyes as if she wanted to look at me. She kept our fingers on our mouth, lips parted under the touch, and we shivered. _Just take a little more time._

 _You never know how much time you'll have_ , I whispered back.

But I did. I knew exactly how much time I had. I couldn't take any more time. My time was up.

I was going anyway. I had to do the right thing, be my true self, with what time I had left.

With a sigh that seemed to come all the way from the soles of our feet and the palms of our hands, we got up.

Aaron and Brandt wouldn't wait forever. And now we had a few more questions that we needed answered. This time, the questions were for Doc.

The caves were full of sad, cast-down eyes. It was easy enough to slip unobtrusively past them all. No one cared what we were doing right now, except maybe Jeb, Brandt, and Aaron, and they weren't here.

We didn't have an open, rainy field, but at least we had the long south tunnel. It was too dark to run flat out the way we wanted, but we kept up a steady jog. It felt good as our muscles warmed.

We expected to find Doc already there. If he wasn’t, we weren’t going to wait for him in that hateful room. But he would be alone. Poor Doc, that was usually the case now. He had been sleeping alone in his hospital since the night we'd saved Jamie's life. Sharon had taken her things from their room and moved them to her mother's, and Doc wouldn't sleep in the empty room.

Such a great hatred. Sharon would rather kill her own happiness, and Doc's, too, than forgive him for helping us heal Jamie.

Sharon and Maggie were barely a presence in the caves anymore. They looked past everyone now, the way they used to look past only us. We wondered if that would change when I was gone, or if they were both so rigid in their grudge that it would be too late for them to change.

What an extraordinarily stupid way to waste time.

For the first time ever, the south tunnel felt short. Before we thought we'd gone halfway, we could see Doc's light glowing dimly from the rough arch ahead. He was home.

We slowed ourselves to a walk before we interrupted him. We didn't want to scare him, to make him think there was an emergency.

He was still startled when we appeared, a little breathless, in the stone doorway. We didn’t lean on it, even though we wanted to. We didn’t want to touch anything in this place.

He jumped up from behind his desk. The book he was reading fell out of his hands.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, Doc," we reassured him. "Everything's fine."

"Does someone need me?"

"Just us." I gave him a weak smile, but Mel quickly made it vanish.

He walked around his desk to meet us, his eyes wide with curiosity. He paused half a step away and raised one eyebrow. His long face was gentle, the opposite of alarming.

"You are a man of your word," I began.

Melanie would not help me now. It was an effort to open our mouth, with her wanting so badly to stay quiet.

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but we held one hand up.

"No one will ever test that more than I will test it now," I warned him.

He waited, eyes confused and wary. He noticed the _I_ ; he, like many others, had grown used to the strange way we usually spoke.

We took a deep breath, felt it expand our lungs.

"I know how to do what you've been ending so many lives to discover. I know how to take the souls from your bodies without harm to either. Of course I know that. We all have to, in case of an emergency. I even performed the emergency procedure once, when I was a Bear."

We stared at him, waiting for his response. It took him a long moment, and his eyes grew wilder every second.

"Why are you telling me this?" he finally gasped, like he knew this would cost him greatly.

"Because I... I am going to give you the knowledge you need." I held up our hand again. "But only if you will give me what I want in return. I'm warning you right now, it won't be any easier for you to give me what I want than it will be for me to give you what you want."

His face was fiercer than we'd ever seen it. "Name your terms."

"You can't kill them—the souls you remove. You must give me your word—your promise, your _oath_ , your _vow—_ that you will give them safe conduct on to another life. This means some danger; you will have to have cryotanks, and you will have to get those souls onto shuttles off-planet. You have to send them to another world to live. But they won't be able to hurt you. By the time they reach their next planet, your grandchildren will be dead."

Would my conditions mitigate my guilt in this? Only if Doc could be trusted.

Mel would make him keep his word, either way.

He was thinking very hard as I explained. We watched his face to see what he would make of my demand. He didn't look angry, but his eyes were still wild.

"You don't want us to kill the Seeker?" he guessed.

I didn't answer his question because he wouldn't understand the answer; we did want them to kill her. That was the whole problem. Instead, I explained further.

"She'll be the first, the test. I want to make sure, while I'm still here, that you're going to follow through. I will do the separation myself. When she is safe, I'll teach you how it's done."

"On who?"

"Kidnapped souls. The same as before. I can't guarantee you that the human minds will come back. I don't know if the erased can return. We'll see with the Seeker."

Doc blinked, processing something. "Wanda. What do you mean, while you are still here? Are you leaving? …where’s Melanie?"

We stared at him, waiting for the realization to hit. He stared back, uncomprehending.

"Don't you realize what I'm giving you?" I whispered.

 _Where am I indeed_ , Mel murmured.

Melanie, like always, was right here.

Finally, comprehension slammed home in his expression.

I spoke quickly, before he could. "There's something else I'm going to ask you for, Doc. I don't want to... I won't be shipped off to another planet. This is my planet, it truly is. And yet, there's really no place for me here. So... I know it might... offend some of the others. Don't tell them if you think they won't allow it. Lie if you have to. But I'd like to be buried by Walt and Wes. Can you do that for me? I won't take up much space." I smiled weakly again.

Mel’s horror locked our body in place, freezing our smile into a grimace. I tried to make us breathe, to thaw us, but she was hurting so much.

"No, Wanda," Doc objected, too, with a shocked expression.

"Please, Doc," I whispered, wincing against Melanie’s—everything. "I don't think Wes or Walt will mind."

"That's not what I meant! I can't kill you, Wanda. Ugh! I'm so sick of death, so sick of killing my friends." Doc's voice caught in a sob.

I put my hand on his thin arm, rubbed it. "People die here. It happens." Kyle had said something to that effect. Funny that I should quote Kyle of all people twice in one night. “And you’ll still have Mel. You’ll have half of us. That needs to be enough.”

“She’s not _you_ ,” he protested.

“You don’t know me without her,” I said gently.

"What about Jared and Jamie?" Doc asked in a choked voice.

"They'll have Melanie. They'll be fine."

"Ian?"

Through our teeth. "He’ll have Melanie too. Half of us," I repeated.

Doc shook his head, wiping at his eyes. "I need to think about this, Wanda."

"We don't have long. They won't wait forever before they kill the Seeker."

"I don't mean about that part. I agree to those terms. But I don't think I can kill you."

"It's all or none, Doc. You have to decide right now. And..." I realized I had one more demand. "And you can't tell anyone else about the last part of our agreement. No one. Those are my terms, take them or leave them. Do you want to know how to remove a soul from a human body?"

Doc shook his head again. "Let me think."

"You already know the answer, Doc. This is what you've been searching for."

He just kept shaking his head slowly back and forth.

I ignored that symbol of denial because we both knew his choice was made.

“We'll get Jared," I said. "We'll make a quick raid for cryotanks. Hold off the others. Tell them... tell them the truth. Tell them I'm going to help you get the Seeker out of that body."

His hand snapped forward and grabbed our wrist before we could leave. We startled, and the fact that this was Doc in the hospital made Melanie wrench our arm from him with a scowl on our face, taking three steps back. Doc stared up at us, looking wounded; of course we hadn’t forgotten.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I just… there was a lot of _me’_ s in there. What do _you_ think of all this, Melanie?”

Melanie paused. She wasn’t used to be so directly addressed by our friends.

“I don’t know how to save her,” Mel told him, wretched, and the words made our heart lurch painfully to the left. It brought tears to our eyes. “I don’t know how to convince her not to do this. I can’t think of a way.”

The words seemed to gut Doc better than any knife.

“Wanda, what about Mel?” he asked me, desperate. “If it’s _Mel’s body_ and she wants you to stay—”

I tried to school our expression back to something more neutral. I shook our head.

“I know how to save _her_ ,” I murmured.

We left.


	23. chapter 51: PREPARED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Monday, another day I almost forget to update this. I hope you like it!

We found Jared and Jamie in our room, waiting for us, worry on both their faces. Jared must have talked to Jeb.

"Are you all right?" Jared asked, while Jamie jumped up and threw his arms around our waist.

We weren’t sure how to answer his question. We didn't know the answer. "Jared, we need your help."

Jared was on his feet as soon as I was done speaking. Jamie leaned back to look at our face. I didn't meet Jamie's gaze. I wasn't sure how much I could bear right now. Melanie was quiet, not helping me at all, and it felt—odd. Like only half my mind was awake, like there was a weight glued to me trying to bring me down to quietness as well. It was strange to be without her for much more than a few seconds.

"What do you need me to do?" Jared asked.

“We’re making a raid. I’m… I want to do a raid. I could use some... extra muscle."

"What are we after?" He was intense, already shifting into his mission mode.

"I can explain on the way. We don't really have a lot of time…"

"Can I come?" Jamie said.

"No!" Jared and I said together.

Jamie frowned and let us go, sinking down onto the mattress and crossing his legs. He put his face in his hands and sulked. I couldn't look directly at him before I ducked out of the room. We were already yearning to sit beside him, to hold him tight and forget this whole mess.

Jared followed as we retraced our path through the south tunnel.

"Why this way?" he asked.

"I..." He would know if I tried to lie or evade. "I don't want to run into anyone. Jeb, Aaron, or Brandt, particularly."

"Why?"

"I don't want to have to explain myself to them. Not yet."

He was quiet, trying to make sense of my answer.

I changed the subject. "Do you know where Lily is? I don't think she should be alone. She seems..."

"Ian's with her."

"That's good. He's the kindest."

Ian would help Lily—he was exactly what she needed now. Who would help Ian when...? I shook our head, shaking the thought away.

"What are we in such a hurry to get?" Jared asked us.

I took a deep breath before I answered him. "Cryotanks."

The south tunnel was black. We could not see his face. His footsteps did not falter beside us, and he didn't say anything for several minutes. When he spoke again, we could hear that he was focusing on the raid—single-minded, setting aside whatever curiosity he felt until after the mission was planned to his satisfaction.

"Where do we get them?"

"Empty cryotanks are stored outside Healing facilities until they're needed. With more souls coming in than leaving, there will be a surplus. No one will guard them… no one will notice if some go missing."

"Are you sure? Where did you get this information?"

"We saw them in Chicago, piles and piles of them. Even the little facility we went to in Tucson had a small store of them, crated outside the delivery bay."

"If they were crated, then how can you be sure—"

I managed a small smile. “We’re fond of labels.”

"I'm not doubting you," he said. "I just want to make sure that you've thought this through."

We heard the double meaning in his words. Mel hardened our expression and Jared looked away from us.

"I have,” I murmured.

"Let's get it done, then."

Doc was already gone—already with Jeb, as we hadn't passed him on the way. He must have left right behind us. I wondered how his news was being taken. I hoped they weren't stupid enough to discuss it in front of the Seeker. Would she shred her human host's brain if she guessed what we were doing? Would she assume I'd turned traitor entirely? That I would give the humans what they needed with no restrictions?

Wasn't that what I was about to do, though? When I was gone, would Doc bother to keep his word?

Yes, he would try. I believed that. I had to believe that. But he couldn't do it alone. And who would help him?

Aside from Mel. She didn’t pipe up with an agreement, but I knew she would help.

We scrambled up the tight black vent that opened onto the southern face of the rocky hill, about halfway up the low peak. The eastern edge of the horizon was turning gray, with just a hint of pink bleeding into the line between sky and rock.

Our eyes were locked on our feet as we climbed down. It was necessary; there was no path, and the loose rocks made for treacherous footing. But even if the way had been paved and smooth, I doubted I would have been able to lift our eyes. Our shoulders, too, seemed trapped in a slump.

Traitor. Not a misfit, not a wanderer. Just a traitor. I was putting my gentle brothers' and sisters' lives into the angry and motivated hands of my adopted human family.

My humans had every right to hate the souls. This was a war. I was giving them a _weapon_. A way to kill with impunity.

But hadn’t the souls been killing with impunity, too?

I considered it all as we ran through the desert in the growing light of dawn—ran because, with the Seekers looking, we shouldn't be out in the daylight.

Focusing on this angle—viewing my choice not as a sacrifice but rather as arming the humans in exchange for the Seeker's life—I knew that it was wrong. And if I was trying to save only the Seeker, this would be the moment when I would change my mind and turn around. She wasn't worth selling out the others. Even she would agree with that.

Or would she? I suddenly wondered. The Seeker didn't seem to be as... what was the word Jared had used? Altruistic. As altruistic as the rest of us. Maybe she would count her own life dearer than the lives of many.

But it was too late to change my mind. I'd already thought far beyond just saving the Seeker. For one thing, this would happen again. The humans would kill any souls they came across unless I gave them another option. More than that, this really wasn’t about the Seeker.

I was going to save Melanie, and that was worth the sacrifice. I was going to save Jared and Jamie, too. Might as well save the repugnant Seeker while I was at it.

The souls were wrong to be here. My humans deserved their world. I could not give it back to them, but I could give them this. If only I could be sure that they would not be cruel.

I would just have to trust and hope.

And maybe wring the promise from a few more of our friends, just in case.

I wondered how many human lives I would save. How many souls' lives I might save. The only one I couldn't save now was myself.

I sighed heavily. Even over the sound of our exerted breathing, Jared heard that. In my peripheral vision, I saw his face turn, felt his eyes boring into us, but I did not look over to meet his gaze. I stared at the ground.

I shivered at being alone.

_Mel?_

She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to be involved in this. I sighed. It made me feel—out of balance.

We got to the jeep's hiding place before the sun had climbed over the eastern peaks, though the sky was already light blue. We ducked into the shallow cave just as the first rays painted the desert sand gold.

Jared grabbed two bottles of water out of the backseat, tossed one to us, and then lounged against the wall. He gulped down half a bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he spoke.

"I could tell you were in a hurry to get out of there, but we need to wait until dark if you're planning a smash and grab."

I swallowed our mouthful of water. "That's fine. I'm sure they'll wait for us now."

His eyes searched our face.

"I saw your Seeker," he told me, watching my reaction. "She's... energetic."

I nodded. "And vocal."

He smiled and rolled his eyes. "She doesn't seem to enjoy the accommodations we provided."

Mel couldn’t help it. She smiled back, ugly and angry. “Could be worse,” she said.

"That's true," he agreed, his voice subdued.

“She killed Wes,” Mel said, hands closing tight around the water bottle. “You treated Wanderer like _slum_.”

"Well, we’re doing it precisely because of that."

We stared up at him.

“What?"

"They didn't want to feel like monsters,” he said. “Not again. They're trying to make up for before, only a little too late—and with the wrong soul. I didn't realize that would... hurt your feelings. I would have thought you'd like it better that way."

Melanie gave him a dry look.

"I do,” I said anyway. I didn't want them to hurt anyone. "It's always better to be kind. I just..." I took a deep breath. "I'm glad I know why."

Their kindness was for me, not for her. My shoulders felt lighter, even if Mel still smarted at it. It was glad to have her near again, even if just a bit. The fact that she had come for my defense made something in me ache.

"It's not a good feeling—knowing that you profoundly deserve the title of monster. It's better to be kind than to feel guilty." He smiled and then yawned. That made us yawn.

"Long night," he commented. "And we've got another one coming. We should sleep."

I was glad for his suggestion. I knew he had many questions about exactly what this raid meant. I also knew he would have already put several things together. And I didn't want to discuss any of it.

I stretched out on the smooth patch of sand beside the jeep. To my shock, Jared came to lie beside us, right beside us. He curled around the curve of our back.

"This okay?” he asked.

I swallowed nothing. Something about having him so close made something in us feel tight and afraid, but at the same time, we loved him, and were suddenly acutely aware of how little time I would have with him. And—he had to have noticed that we were acting strange. That we were more Wanderer than Melanie.

I knew he was doing this for me.

“Here," he said, and he reached around to slide his fingers under our face. He pulled our head up from the ground and then moved his arm under it, making a pillow for us. He let his other arm drape over our waist.

It took a few seconds before I was able to respond. "T-thanks."

He yawned. We felt his breath warm the back of our neck. "Get some rest, Wanda."

Holding _me_ in what could only be considered an embrace, Jared fell asleep quickly, as he had always been able to do. I tried to relax with his arm warm around us, but it took a long time.

This embrace made us wonder how much he had already guessed.

Our weary thoughts tangled and twisted. Jared was right—it had been a very long night. Though not half long enough. The rest of our days and nights were going to fly by as if they were only minutes.

The next thing we knew, Jared was shaking us awake. The light in the little cavern was dim and orangey. Sunset.

Jared pulled us to our feet and handed us a hiker's meal bar—this was the kind of rations they kept with the jeep. We ate, and drank the rest of our water, in silence. Jared's face was serious and focused.

"Still in a hurry?" he asked as we climbed into the jeep.

No. We wanted the time to stretch out forever.

"Yes." What was the point in putting it off? The Seeker and her body would die if we waited too long, and we would still have to make the same choice.

"We'll hit Phoenix, then. It's logical that they wouldn't notice this kind of raid. It doesn't make sense for humans to take your cold-storage tanks. What possible use could we have for them?"

The question didn't sound at all rhetorical, and I could feel him looking at us again. But I stared ahead at the rocks and said nothing.

It had been dark for a while by the time we traded vehicles and got to the freeway. Jared waited a few careful minutes with the inconspicuous sedan's lights off. I counted ten cars passing by. Then there was a long darkness between the headlights, and Jared pulled onto the road.

The trip to Phoenix was very short, though Jared kept the speed scrupulously below the limit. Time was speeding up, as if the Earth were spinning faster.

We settled into the steady-moving traffic, flowing with it along the highway that circled the flat, sprawling city. I saw the hospital from the road. We followed another car up the exit ramp, moving evenly, without hurry.

Jared turned into the main parking lot.

"Where now?" he asked, tense.

"See if this road continues around the back. The tanks will be by a loading area."

Jared drove slowly. There were many souls here, going in and out of the facility, some of them in scrubs. Healers. No one paid us any particular attention.

The road hugged the sidewalk, then curved around the north side of the building complex.

"Look. Shipping trucks. Head that way."

We passed between a wing of low buildings and a parking garage. Several trucks, delivering medical supplies no doubt, were backed into receiving ports. I scanned the crates on the dock, all labeled.

"Keep going... though we might want to grab some of those on the way back. See—Heal... Cool... Still? I wonder what that one is."

I liked that these supplies were labeled and left unguarded. My family wouldn't go without the things they needed when I was gone. When I was gone; it seemed that phrase was tacked on to all of our thoughts now.

We rounded the back of another building. Jared drove a little faster and kept his eyes forward—there were people here, four of them, unloading a truck onto a dock. It was the exactness of their movements that caught our attention. They didn't handle the smallish boxes roughly; quite the contrary, they placed them with infinite care onto the waist-high lip of concrete.

We didn't really need the label for confirmation, but just then, one of the unloaders turned his box so the black letters faced us directly.

"This is the place we want. They're unloading occupied tanks right now. The empty ones won't be far... Ah. There, on the other side. That shed is half full of them. I'll bet the closed sheds are all the way full…"

Jared kept driving at the same careful speed, turning the corner to the side of the building.

He snorted quietly.

"What?" I asked.

"Figures. See?"

He jerked his chin toward the sign on the building.

This was the maternity wing.

"Ah," I said. "Well, you'll always know where to look, won't you?"

His eyes flashed to our face when I said that, and then back to the road.

"We'll have to wait for a bit. Looked like they were almost finished."

Jared circled the hospital again, then parked at the back of the biggest lot, away from the lights.

He killed the engine and slumped against the seat. He reached over and took our hand. I knew that he was about to ask, and I tried to prepare myself.

"Wanda?"

"Yes?"

“Where’s Mel?”

I swallowed nothing. “She’s here. She’s just mad at me.”

He was quiet for a moment.

"You're going to save the Seeker, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Because it's the right thing to do?" he guessed.

"That's one reason."

He was silent for a moment.

"You know how to get the soul out without hurting the body?"

Our heart thumped hard once, and I had to swallow before I could answer. "Yes. I've done it before. In an emergency. Not here."

"Where?" he asked. "What was the emergency?"

It was a story I'd never told them before, for obvious reasons. It was one of our best. Lots of action. Jamie would have loved it. I sighed and began in a low voice.

"On the Mists Planet. I was with my friend Harness Light and a guide. I don't remember the guide's name. They called me Lives in the Stars there. I already had a bit of a reputation."

Jared chuckled.

"We were making a pilgrimage across the fourth great ice field to see one of the more celebrated crystal cities. It was supposed to be a safe route… that's why there were only three of us.

"Claw beasts like to dig pits and bury themselves in the snow. Camouflage, you know. A trap.

"One moment, there was nothing but the flat, endless snow. Then, the next moment, it seemed like the entire field of white was exploding into the sky.

"An average adult Bear has about the mass of a buffalo. A full-grown claw beast is closer to the mass of a blue whale. This one was bigger than most.

"I couldn't see the guide. The claw beast had sprung up between us, facing where Harness Light and I stood. Bears are faster than claw beasts, but this one had the advantage of the ambush. Its huge stone-like pincers swooped down and sheared Harness Light in half before I'd really processed what was happening."

A car drove slowly down the side of the parking lot. We sat silent until it had passed.

"I hesitated. I should have started running, but... my friend was dying there on the ice. Because of that hesitation, I would have died, too, if the claw beast hadn't been distracted. I found out later that our guide-I wish I could remember his name!-had attacked the claw beast's tail, hoping to give us a chance to run. The claw beast's attack had stirred up enough snow that it was like a blizzard. The lack of visibility would help us escape. He didn't know it was already too late for Harness Light to run.

"The claw beast turned on the guide, and his second left leg kicked us, sending me flying. Harness Light's upper body landed beside me. His blood melted the snow."

We paused to shudder.

"My next action made no sense, because I had no body for Harness Light. We were midway between cities, much too far to run to either. It was probably cruel, too, to take him out with no painkillers. But I couldn't stand to let him die inside the broken half of his Bear host.

"I used the back of my hand—the ice-cutting side. It was too wide a blade... It caused a lot of damage. I could only hope that Harness Light was far gone enough that he wouldn't feel the extra pain.

"Using my soft inside fingers, I coaxed Harness Light from the Bear's brain.

"He was still alive. I barely paused to ascertain this. I shoved him into the egg pocket in the center of my body, between the two hottest hearts. This would keep him from dying of cold, but he would only last a few short minutes without a body. And where would I find a host body in this empty waste?

"I thought of trying to share my host, but I doubted I could stay conscious through the procedure to insert him into my own head. And then, having no healing medicine, I would die quickly. With all those hearts, Bears bled very fast.

"The claw beast roared, and I felt the ground shake as its huge paws thudded down. I didn't know where our guide was, or if he lived. I didn't know how long it would take the claw beast to find us half-buried in the snow. I was right beside the severed Bear. The bright blood would draw the monster's eyes.

"And then I got this crazy idea."

I paused to laugh quietly to myself.

"I didn't have a Bear host for Harness Light. I couldn't use my body. The guide was dead or had fled. But there was one other body on the ice field.

"It was insanity, but all I could think of was Harness Light. We weren't even close friends, but I knew he was slowly dying, right between my hearts. I couldn't endure that.

"I heard the angry claw beast roaring, and I ran toward the sound. Soon I could see its thick white fur. I ran straight to its third left leg and launched myself as high up the leg as I could. I was a good jumper. I used all six of my hands, the knife sides, to yank myself up the side of the beast. It roared and spun, but that didn't help. Picture a dog chasing its tail. Claw beasts have very small brains-a limited intelligence.

"I made it to the beast's back and ran up the double spine, digging in with my knives so that it couldn't shake me off.

"It only took seconds to get up to the beast's head. But that was where the greatest difficulty waited. My ice cutters were only... about as long as your forearm, maybe. The claw beast's hide was twice as thick. I swung my arm down as hard as I could, slashing through the first layer of fur and membrane. The claw beast screamed and reared back on its hindmost legs. I almost fell.

"I lodged four of my hands into its hide—it screamed and thrashed. With the other two, I took turns cutting at the gash I'd made. The skin was so thick and tough, I didn't know if I would be able to saw through.

"The claw beast went berserk. It shook so hard that it was all I could do to hold on for a moment. But time was running out for Harness Light. I shoved my hands into the hole and tried to rip it open.

"Then the claw beast threw itself backward onto the ice.

"If we hadn't been over its lair, the pit it had dug to hide in, that would have crushed me. As it was, though it knocked me silly, the fall actually helped. My knives were already in the beast's neck. When I hit the ground, the weight of the beast drove my cutters deep through its skin. Deeper than I needed.

"We were both stunned; I was half smothered. I knew I had to do something right away, but I couldn't remember what it was. The beast started to roll, dazed. The fresh air cleared my head, and I remembered Harness Light.

"Protecting him from the cold as well as I could in the soft side of my hands, I moved him from my egg pocket into the claw beast's neck.

"The beast got to its feet and bucked again. This time I flew off. I'd let go of my hold to insert Harness Light, you see. The claw beast was infuriated. The wound on its head wasn't nearly enough to kill it-just annoy it.

"The snow had settled enough that I was in plain sight, especially as I was painted with the beast's blood. It's a very bright color, a color you don't have here. It raised its pincers, and they swung toward me. I thought that was it, and I was comforted a little that at least I would die trying.

"And then the pincers hit the snow beside me. I couldn't believe it had missed! I stared up at the huge, hideous face, and I almost had to... well, not laugh. Bears don't laugh. But that was the feeling. Because that ugly face was torn with confusion and surprise and chagrin. No claw beast had ever worn such an expression before.

"It had taken Harness Light a few minutes to bind himself to the claw beast-it was such a big area, he really had to extend himself. But then he was in control. He was confused and slow—he didn't have much of a brain to work with, but it was enough that he knew I was his friend.

"I had to ride him to the crystal city—to hold the wound closed on his neck until we could reach a Healer. That caused quite a stir. For a while they called me Rides the Beast. I didn't like it. I made them go back to my other name."

We'd been staring ahead, toward the lights of the hospital and the figures of the souls crossing in front of those lights, as I told the story. Now I looked at Jared for the first time. He was gaping at me, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Melanie was still in our mind, like a perfect bubble of air. She was amazed. She knew—there was nothing she didn’t know, now—but it was different to hear it like that.

It really was one of my best stories. Maybe Mel would tell it to Jamie when I was...

"They're probably finished unloading, don't you think?" I said quickly. "Let's finish this and get back home."

He stared at me for one more moment, and then shook his head slowly.

"Yes, let's finish this, Wanderer, Lives in the Stars, Rides the Beast. Stealing a few unguarded crates won't be much of a challenge for you, will it?"


	24. chapter 52: SEPARATED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Monday, another chapter! I'm very sorry I forgot Thursday again, but by the time I managed to convince myself to get off my butt to post, it was already Sunday anyway... Would you guys want me to post another chapter today to make up for it, or is it okay to just keep trekking like normal?

We brought our plunder in through the south vent, though this meant that the jeep would have to be moved before dawn. My main concern with using the bigger entrance was that the Seeker would hear the commotion our arrival was sure to cause. I wasn't sure if she had any idea of what I was going to do, and I didn't want to give her any reason to kill her host and herself. The story Jeb had told us about one of their captives—the man who had simply collapsed, leaving no external evidence on the outside of the havoc wreaked inside his skull—haunted my thoughts.

The hospital was not empty. As I squeezed us through the last tight bubble of space out into the main room, I found Doc preparing for the operation. His desk was laid out; on it, a propane lantern—the brightest illumination we had available—waited to be lit. The scalpels glinted in the duller blue light of the solar lamp.

I had known that Doc would agree to my terms, but seeing him thus occupied sent a wave of nervous nausea through us. Or maybe it was just the memory of that day _that_ sickened us to our core.

"You're back," he said with relief. We realized that he'd been worried about us, just as everyone worried when someone left the safety of the caves.

"We brought you a gift," Jared said as he pushed himself free behind us. He straightened up and reached back for a box. With a flourish, he held it up, displaying the label on the side.

"Heal!" Doc crowed. "How much did you get?"

"Two cases. And we've found a much better way to renew our stores than to have these two stabbing themselves."

Doc did not laugh at Jared's joke. Instead he turned to stare at us piercingly—at me. We both must have been thinking the same thing: convenient, since I wouldn’t be around anymore.

"Did you get the cryotanks?" he asked, more subdued.

Jared noticed the look and the tension. He glanced at us, his expression impossible to read.

"Yes," I answered. "Ten of them. It was all the car could hold."

While I spoke, Jared yanked on the rope behind him. With a clatter of loose rock, the second box of Heal, followed by the tanks, tumbled onto the floor behind him. The tanks clanked like metal, though they were built of no element that existed on this planet. I'd told him it was fine to treat the empty cryotanks roughly; they were built to withstand much worse abuse than being tugged through a stone channel. They glinted on the floor now, looking shiny and pristine.

Doc picked one up, freeing it from the rope, and turned it around in his hands.

"Ten?" The number seemed to surprise him. Did he think it too many? Or not enough? "Are they difficult to use?"

"No. Extremely easy. I'll show you how."

Doc nodded, his eyes examining the alien construction. I could feel Jared watching us, but I kept our eyes on Doc.

"What did Jeb, Brandt, and Aaron say?" I asked quietly.

Doc looked up, locked his eyes on ours. "They're... in agreement with your terms."

I nodded, not convinced. "I won't show you unless I believe that."

"That's fair."

Jared glared at us, confused and frustrated.

"What did you tell him?" Doc asked me, being cautious.

"Just that I was going to save the Seeker." I turned to look in Jared's general direction without meeting his gaze. "Doc has promised me that if I show him how to perform the separation, you will give the released souls safe conduct to another life on another planet. No killing."

Jared nodded thoughtfully, his eyes flickering back to Doc. "I can agree to those terms. And I can make sure the others follow through. I assume you have a plan to get them off-planet?"

"It will be no more dangerous than what we did tonight. Just the opposite. Adding to the stack rather than taking from it."

“Okay."

"Did you... have a time schedule in mind?" Doc asked. He tried to sound nonchalant, but we could hear the eagerness behind his voice.

He just wanted the answer that had eluded him for so long, I tried to tell myself. It wasn't that he was in a hurry to kill me. Something in us twisted at that.

"I have to take the jeep back—can you wait? I'd like to watch this."

"Sure, Jared," Doc agreed.

"Won't take me long," Jared promised as he shoved himself back into the vent.

That I was sure of. It wouldn't take enough time at all.

Doc and I did not speak until the sound of Jared's scrambling exit had faded.

"You didn't talk about... Melanie?" he asked softly.

I shook our head. "I think he sees where this is going. He must guess my plan."

"But not all of it. He won't allow—"

"He won't get a say," I interrupted severely. "Jared gets no say when it comes to us, remember? All or nothing, Doc."

Doc sighed. After a moment of silence, he stretched and glanced toward the main exit. "I'm going to go talk to Jeb, get things ready."

He reached for a bottle on the table. The chloroform. I was sure the souls had something better to use. We would have to try to find it for Doc, before I was gone.

"Who knows about this?"

"Still just Jeb, Aaron, and Brandt. They all want to watch."

This wasn’t surprising; Aaron and Brandt would be suspicious. "Don't tell anyone else. Not tonight."

Doc nodded, then he disappeared into the black corridor.

I went to sit against the wall, as far from the prepared cot as I could get. I'd have my turn on top of it all too soon.

It was strange, to sit in the silence. She wasn’t… too far away. It didn’t _hurt_ to have her far, it was just strange, like suddenly going half-blind must feel like.

I was less sure of myself in this place than I thought I would be, without her.

 _Don’t be a fool_ , I said quietly.

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t have to; there was not enough separating us for our thoughts not to bleed into each other.

_Mel?_

Nothing.

 _You can’t make yourself disappear,_ I said, tired. _All you’re doing is leaving me alone._

She kept herself steadfastly away.

 _It wouldn’t stop me, anyway_ , I said. _It’d only make me do it all faster._

“I don’t know any other way to stop you,” she muttered.

I closed our eyes. _Please. Don’t you want them back? Don’t you want to be with Jared again?_

She writhed, fighting the obviousness of the answer. _Yes, but... I can't..._ She took a moment to steady herself.

“I find myself incapable of being your death, Wanderer,” she whispered. “I can’t stand it.”

 _Just stop trying to disappear_ , I said. I didn’t want to feel her pain, but of course it was piercing through us both like a dagger. _Imagine what Jared would do._ I imagined it for us, smiling a little through the tears. _Remember? He said no guarantees about what he would or wouldn't do to keep you here_.

 _I don’t want to think about Jared right now_ , she said.

We thought of other things then, things that didn't hurt. Like where we would send the Seeker. Mel was all for the Mists Planet after my story tonight, but I thought the Planet of the Flowers would be more fitting. There wasn't a mellower planet in the universe. The Seeker needed a nice long lifetime eating sunshine.

We thought of other memories, the pretty ones. The ice castles and the night music and the colored suns. They were like fairytales now, like the human fairy tales we remembered from a long time ago. We thought of glass slippers, poisoned apples, mermaids who wanted to have souls...

Of course, we didn't have time to tell many stories.

They all returned together. Jared had come back through the main entrance. It had taken so very little time—perhaps he'd just driven the jeep around to the north side and hidden it under the overhang there. In a hurry.

We heard their voices coming, subdued, serious, low, and knew from their tone that the Seeker was with them. Knew that the time had come for the first stage of my death.

_No._

_Pay attention. You're going to have to help them do this after—_

_No!_

But she wasn't protesting the instruction, just the conclusion of the thought.

Jared was the one who carried the Seeker into the room. He came first, the others behind. Aaron and Brandt both had the guns ready—in case she was only feigning unconsciousness, perhaps, and about to jump up and attack them with her tiny hands. Jeb and Doc came last, and we knew Jeb's canny eyes would be on our face. How much had he figured out already with his crazy, insightful shrewdness?

We kept ourselves focused on the task at hand.

Jared laid the Seeker's inert form on the cot with exceptional gentleness. This might have bothered us before, but now it touched us. We understood that he did this for me, wishing that he could have treated me this way in the beginning.

"Doc, where's the No Pain?"

"I'll get it for you," he murmured.

We stared at the Seeker's face while we waited, wondering what it would look like when her host was free. Would anything be left? Would the host be empty or would the rightful owner reassert herself? Would the face be less repugnant to us when another awareness looked out of those eyes?

"Here you go." Doc put the canister in our hand.

"Thanks."

We pulled out one thin tissue square and handed the container back to him.

We found ourselves reluctant to touch the Seeker, but we made our hands move swiftly and purposefully as we pulled her chin down and put the No Pain on her tongue. Her face was very small—it made our hands feel big. Her tiny size always threw us off. It seemed so inappropriate.

We closed her mouth again. It was moist—the medicine would dissolve quickly.

"Jared, can you roll her onto her stomach?" we asked.

He did as we asked—again, gently. Just then, the propane lantern flared to life. The cave was suddenly bright, almost like daylight. We glanced up instinctively and saw that Doc had covered the big holes in the roof with tarps to keep our light from escaping. He'd done a lot of preparation in our absence.

It was very quiet. We could hear the Seeker breathing evenly in and out. We could hear the faster, tenser breathing of the men in the room with us. Someone shifted from one foot to the other, and sand ground against rock under their heel. Their stares had a physical weight on our skin.

We swallowed, hoping we could keep our voice normal. "Doc, we need Heal, Clean, Seal, and Smooth."

"Right here."

We brushed the Seeker's coarse black hair out of the way, exposing the little pink line at the base of her skull. We stared at her olive tan skin and hesitated.

"Would you cut, Doc? We don't... I don't want to."

"No problem."

We saw only his hands as he came to stand across from us. He set a little row of white cylinders on the cot next to the Seeker's shoulder. The scalpel winked in the bright light, flashing across our face.

"Hold her hair out of the way."

We used both hands to clear her neck.

"Wish I could scrub up," Doc muttered to himself, obviously feeling underprepared.

"We have Clean,” we pointed out.

"I know." He sighed. What he really wanted was the routine, the mental cleansing that the old habits had given him.

"How much room do you need?" he asked, hesitating with the point of the blade an inch from her skin.

We could feel the heat of the other bodies behind us, squeezing in to get a better view. They were careful not to touch either of us.

"Just the length of the scar. That will be enough."

This didn't seem like enough to him. "You sure?"

"Yes. Oh, wait!"

Doc pulled back.

We realized we were doing this all backward. We were no Healer. We weren’t cut out for this. Our hands were shaking. We couldn't seem to look away from the Seeker's body.

"Jared, get one of those tanks for us?"

"Of course."

We heard him walk the few steps away, heard the dull, metallic clunk of the tank he chose knocking against the others.

"What now?"

"There's a circle on top of the lid. Press it in."

We heard the low hum of the cryotank as it powered on. The men muttered and shuffled their feet, moving away from it.

"Okay, on the side there should be a switch... more like a dial, actually. Can you see it?"

Yes."

"Spin it all the way down."

"Okay."

"What color is the light on top of the tank?"

"It's... it's just turning from purple to... bright blue. Light blue now."

We took a deep breath. At least the tanks were functional.

"Great. Pop the lid and wait."

"How?"

"Latch under the lip."

"Got it." We heard the click of the latch, and then the whir of the mechanism. "It's cold!"

"That's sort of the point."

"How does it work? What's the power source?"

We sighed. "We knew the answers when we were a Spider. We don't understand it now. Doc, you can go ahead. We’re ready."

"Here we go," Doc whispered as he slid the blade of the scalpel deftly, almost gracefully, through the skin. Blood coursed down the side of her neck, pooling on the towel Doc had placed underneath.

"A tiny bit deeper. Just under the edge—"

"Yes, I see." Doc was breathing fast, excited.

Silver glinted out from the red. It made our breath shorten, to see that fragile silver in _this_ room, filled with _these_ people.

"That's—that’s good,” we said, wrestling control back. This was no time to panic. The Seeker would be the only one to suffer if we panicked. “Now you hold the hair."

Doc switched places with us in a smooth, swift movement. He was good at his Calling. He would have made quite a Healer.

We didn't try to hide what we were doing from him. The movements were too minute for him to have any chance of seeing. He would not be able to do this until we explained.

We slid one fingertip carefully along the back ridge of the tiny silver creature until our finger was almost entirely inserted into the hot opening at the base of the host body's neck. We traced our way to the anterior antennae, feeling the taut lines of the bound attachments stretched tight like harp strings into the deeper recesses of her head.

We twisted our finger around the underside of the soul's body, caressing down from the first segment along the other line of attachments, as stiff and profuse as the bristles of a brush.

We felt carefully at the juncture of these tight strings, at the tiny joints, no bigger than pinheads. We stroked our way about a third of the way down. We could have counted, but that would have taken a very long time. It would be the two hundred seventeenth connection, but there was another way to find it. There it was, the little ridge that made this joint just a bit bigger—a seed pearl rather than a pinhead. It was smooth under our fingertip.

We pressed against it with gentle pressure, tenderly massaging. Kindness was always the way of the souls. Never violence.

"Relax," I breathed.

And, though the soul could not hear us, it obeyed. The harp strings loosened, went slack. We could feel the slither as they retracted, feel the slight swelling of the body as it absorbed them. The process took no more than a few beats of our heart. We held our breath until we felt the soul undulate under our touch. Wriggling free.

We let it twist itself a little farther out, and then we curled our fingers gently around the tiny, fragile body. We lifted it, silver and gleaming, wet with blood that was quickly shed from the smooth casing, and cradled it in our hand.

It was beautiful. The soul whose name we'd never known billowed like a silver wave in our hand... a lovely feathered ribbon. We couldn't hate the Seeker in this form. An almost maternal love swept through us. It was the murdered children, and the tiny, terrified Seeker, and Wanderer too. This fragile, beautiful thing.

"Sleep well, little one," I whispered.

We turned toward the faint hum of the cryotank, just to our left. Jared held it low and angled, so it was a simple matter for us to ease the soul into the shockingly cold air that gusted from the opening. We let it slide into the small space and then carefully re-latched the lid.

We took the cryotank from Jared, easing it rather than tugging it, turning it with care until it was vertical, and then we hugged it to our chest. The outside of the tank was the same temperature as the warm room. We cradled it to our body, protective as any mother.

We knew, furiously and certainly, that anyone who wanted to get through to her would have to murder us first.

We looked back at the stranger on the table. Doc was already dusting Smooth over the sealed wound. We made a good team: one attending to the soul, the other to the body. Everyone was taken care of.

Doc looked up at us, his eyes full of exhilaration and wonder. "Amazing," he murmured. "That was incredible."

"Good job," we whispered back.

"When do you think she'll wake up?" Doc asked.

"That depends on how much chloroform she inhaled."

"Not much."

"And if she's still there. We'll have to wait and see."

Before we could ask, Jared lifted the nameless woman tenderly from the cot, rolled her face-up, and laid her on another, cleaner resting place. This tenderness did not move us. This tenderness was for the human, and we had always known they could be gentle with those who were not us.

Doc went with him, checking her pulse, peeking under her lids. He shone a flashlight into her unconscious eyes and watched the pupils constrict. No light reflected back to blind him. He and Jared exchanged a long glance.

"They really did it," Jared said, his voice low.

"Yes," Doc agreed.

We didn't hear Jeb sidle up next to us.

"Pretty slick, kid," he murmured.

We shrugged.

"Feeling a smidge conflicted?"

“ _Fuck you_ , Uncle Jeb,” Mel said, too exhausted for it to truly be a snap.

"Yeah. Me, too, hon,” he said, tired. “Me, too."

Aaron and Brandt were talking behind us, their voices rising with excitement, answering each other's thoughts before the questions were spoken.

No conflict there.

"Wait till the others hear!"

"Think of the—"

"We should go get some—"

"Right now, I'm ready—"

"Hold up," Jeb cut Brandt off. "No soul snatching until that cryotank is safely on its way into outer space. Right, girls?"

"Right," we agreed, voice cold and firm as stone.

Brandt and Aaron exchanged sour glances.

 _We need more allies_ , Mel said, resigned.

Jared and Jeb and Doc were only three, though certainly the most influential three here. Still, they would need support.

We knew what this meant.

It meant talking to Ian.

Others, too, of course, but Ian would have to be one of them. Our heart seemed to slump lower in our chest, to curl limply in on itself. We’d done many things we had not wanted to do since joining the humans, but we couldn't remember any this sharply and pointedly painful. Even deciding to trade my life for the Seeker's—that was a huge, vast hurt, a wide field of ache, but it was almost manageable because it was so tied up in the bigger picture.

Telling Ian goodbye was a razor-sharp piercing thing; it made the greater vision hard to see. We wished there was some way, any way, to save him from the same pain. There wasn't.

The only thing worse would be telling Jared goodbye. That one would burn and fester. Because he wouldn't feel pain. His joy would far outweigh any small regret he might feel over me.

As for Jamie, well, I wasn't planning on facing that goodbye at all.

"Wanda!" Doc's voice was sharp.

We hurried to the bed Doc was hovering over. Before we got there, we could see the tiny olive hand fisting and unfisting where it hung over the edge of the cot.

"Ah," the Seeker's familiar voice moaned from the human body. "Ah."

The room went utterly silent. Everyone looked at us, as if we were the expert on humans.

We elbowed Doc, our hands still wrapped around the tank. "Talk to her," we said.

"Um... Hello? Can you hear me... miss? You're safe now. Do you understand me?"

"Ah," she groaned. Her eyes fluttered open, focused quickly on Doc's face. There was no discomfort in her expression—the No Pain would be making her feel wonderful, of course. Her eyes were onyx black. They darted around the room until she found us, and recognition was quickly followed by a scowl. She looked away, back to Doc.

"Well, it feels good to have my head back," she said in a loud, clear voice. "Thanks."


	25. chapter 53: CONDEMNED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people have spoken! Well, two people have spoken. But who am I to deny two people when they leave me awesome comments? I would kill and die for you. Here is the next chapter! Things are surely moving quickly [eyes emoji]

The Seeker's host body was named Lacey; a dainty, soft, feminine name. Lacey. As inappropriate as the size, in our opinion. Like naming a pit bull Fluffy.

Lacey was just as loud as the Seeker—and still a complainer.

"You'll have to forgive me for going on and on," she insisted, allowing us no other options. "I've been shouting away in there for years and never getting to speak for myself. I've got a lot to say all stored up."

How lucky for us. I could almost make myself glad that I was leaving.

In answer to our earlier questioning, no, the face was not less repugnant with a different awareness behind it. Because the awareness was not so very different, in the end.

"That's why we don't like you," she told us that first night, making no change from the present tense or the plural pronoun. It was… strangely comforting to hear it. "When she realized that you were hearing Melanie just the way she was hearing me, it made her frightened. She thought you might guess. I was her deep, dark secret." A grating laugh. "She couldn't make me shut up. That's why she became a Seeker, because she was hoping to figure out some way to better deal with resistant hosts. And then she requested being assigned to you, so she could watch how you did it. She was jealous of you; isn't that pathetic? She wanted to be strong like you. It gave us a real kick when we thought Melanie had won. I guess that didn't happen, though. I guess you did. So why did you come here? Why are you helping the rebels?"

We explained, unwillingly, how strange and delicate our situation was; that _both_ of us had won, in a way. She didn’t like that, and didn’t understand why we didn’t hate each other.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Why what?" Mel snapped.

"Why do you like that _parasite?_ "

“Fuck you.”

Lacey snorted. "Got you brainwashed, huh?"

_Wow, she's worse than the first one._

_Yes_ , I agreed. _I can see why the Seeker was so obnoxious. Can you imagine having that in your head all the time?_

We weren’t the only thing Lacey objected to.

"Do you have anywhere better to live than these caves? It's so dirty here. Isn't there a house somewhere, maybe? What do you mean we have to share rooms? Chore schedule? I don't understand. I have to work? I don't think you understand..."

Jeb had given her the usual tour the next day, trying to explain, through clenched teeth, the way we all lived here. When they'd passed me—eating in the kitchen with Ian and Jamie—he threw us a look that clearly asked why we hadn't let Aaron shoot her while that was still an option.

The tour was more crowded than ours had been. Everyone wanted to see the miracle for themselves. It didn't even seem to matter to most of them that she was... difficult. She was welcome. More than welcome. We felt a some bitter jealousy. But that was silly. She was human. She represented hope. She belonged here. She would be here long after I was gone.

 _Lucky you_ , Mel whispered sarcastically.

Talking to Ian and Jamie about what had happened was not as difficult and painful as we'd imagined.

This was because they were, for different reasons, entirely clueless. Neither grasped that this new knowledge meant I would be leaving.

With Jamie, we understood why. More than anyone else, he had accepted me and Mel as the package deal we were. Wholly, full-heartedly. He loved me too and accepted me as a sister, parasite that I was. He wasn’t embroiled in the mess of our feelings like Jared. We loved him, and he didn’t miss Mel because he had her, like he always had. He didn’t see the necessity of our separation.

We weren’t sure why Ian didn't understand. Was he too caught up in the potential? The changes this would mean for the human society here? They were all boggled by the idea that getting caught—the end—was no longer a finality. There was a way to come back. It seemed natural to him that we had acted to save the Seeker; it was consistent with his idea of our personality. Maybe that was as far as he'd considered it.

Or maybe Ian just didn't have a chance to think it all through, to see the glaring eventuality, before he was distracted. Distracted and enraged.

"I should have killed him years ago," Ian ranted as we packed what we needed for our raid. My final raid; we tried not to dwell on that. "No, our mother should have drowned him at birth!"

"He's your brother."

"I don't know why you keep saying that. Are you trying to make me feel worse?"

We scowled at him.

Everyone was furious with Kyle. Jared's lips were welded into a tight line of rage, and Jeb stroked his gun more than usual.

Jeb had been excited, planning to join us on this landmark raid, his first since we'd come to live here. He was particularly keen to see the shuttle field up close. But now, with Kyle putting us all in danger, he felt he had to stay behind just in case. Not getting his way put Jeb in a foul mood.

"Stuck behind with that creature," he muttered to himself, rubbing the rifle barrel again—he wasn't getting any happier about the new member of his community. "Missin' all the fun." He spit on the floor.

We all knew where Kyle was. As soon as he'd grasped how the Seeker-worm had magically transformed into the Lacey-human in the night, he'd slipped out the back. We'd been expecting him to lead the party demanding the Seeker's death (we kept the cryotank always cradled in our arms; we slept lightly, filled with silver, bloodied nightmares, our hand touching its smooth surface), but he was nowhere to be found, and Jeb had quashed the resistance easily in his absence.

Jared was the one to realize the jeep was gone. And Ian had been the one to link the two absences.

"He's gone after Jodi," Ian had groaned. "What else?"

Hope and despair. We had given them one, Kyle the other. Would he betray them all before they could even make use of the hope?

Jared and Jeb wanted to put off the raid until we knew if Kyle was successful—it would take him three days under the best circumstances, if his Jodi still lived in Oregon. If he could find her there.

There was another place, another cave we could evacuate to. A much smaller place, with no water, so we couldn't hide there long. They'd debated whether they should move everyone now or wait.

But we were in a hurry. We'd seen the way the others eyed the silver tank in our arms. We'd heard the whispers. The longer we kept the Seeker here, the better chance that someone would kill her. Having met Lacey, we'd begun to pity the Seeker. She deserved a mild, pleasant new life with the Flowers.

Ironically enough, Ian was the one who took our side and helped hurry the raid along. He still didn't see where this would lead.

But we were grateful that he helped us convince Jared there was time to make the raid and get back before a decision was made about Kyle. Grateful also that he was back to playing bodyguard. We knew we could trust Ian with the shiny cryotank more than anyone else. He was the only one we would let hold it when we needed our arms. He was the only one who could see, in the shape of that small container, a life to be protected. He could think of that shape as a friend, something that could be loved. He was the best ally of all. We were so grateful for Ian, and so grateful for the obliviousness that saved him, for the moment, from pain.

We had to be fast, in case Kyle ruined everything. We went to Phoenix again, to one of the many communities that spun out from the hub. There was a big shuttle field to the southeast, in a town called Mesa, with several Healing facilities nearby. That was what we wanted—I would give them as much as I could before I left. If we took a Healer, then we might be able to preserve the Healer's memory in the host body. Someone who understood all the medicines and their uses. Someone who knew the best ways to get to unattended stashes. Doc would love that. We could imagine all the questions he'd be dying to ask.

First the shuttle field.

We were sad that Jeb was missing this, but he'd have so many other chances in the future. Though it was dark, a long line of small snub-nosed shuttles drifted in to land while others took flight in an endless stream.

We drove the old van while the others rode in the back—Ian in charge of the tank, of course. We circled the field, staying clear of the busy local terminal. It was easy to spot the vast, sleek white vessels that left the planet. They did not depart with the frequency of the smaller ships. All we saw were docked, none preparing to leave immediately.

"Everything's labeled," we reported to the others, invisible in the dark back. "Now, this is important. Avoid ships to the Bats, and especially the See Weeds. The See Weeds are just one system over—it takes only a decade to make the round trip. That's much too short. The Flowers are the farthest, and the Dolphins, Bears, and Spiders all take at least a century to go one way. Only send tanks to those."

We drove slowly, close to the crafts.

"This will be easy. They've got all kinds of delivery vehicles out here, and we blend in. Oh! We can see a tank truck—it's just like the one we saw them unloading at the hospital, Jared. There's a man looking over the stacks... He's putting them onto a hover cart. He's going to load them..." We drove even slower, trying to get a good look. "Yeah, onto this ship. Right into the open hatch. We'll circle back and make our move when he's in the ship." We pulled past, examining the scene in our mirrors. There was a lit sign beside the tube that connected the head of the ship to the terminal. We smiled as we read the words backward. This ship was going to the Flowers. It was meant to be.

We made a slow turn as the man disappeared into the hull of the ship.

"Get ready," we whispered as we pulled into the shadow made by the cylindrical wing of the next enormous ship over. We were only three or four yards from the tank truck. There were a few technicians working near the front of the Flower-bound vessel and others, farther away, out on the old runway. We would be just another figure in the night.

We cut the engine and hopped down from the driver's seat, trying to look casual, like we were only doing our job. We went around to the back of the van and opened the door a crack. The tank was right at the edge, the light on top glowing dull red, signifying that it was occupied. We lifted it carefully and closed the door.

We kept up an easy rolling pace as we walked to the open end of the truck. But our breathing sped up. This felt more dangerous than the hospital, and that worried us. Could we expect our people to risk their lives this way?

 _I'll be there. I'll do it myself, just like we would,_ Mel whispered.

I couldn’t speak past the gratitude.

We had to force ourselves not to keep glancing over our shoulder at the open hatch where the man had disappeared. We placed the tank gently atop the closest column in the truck. The addition, one among hundreds, was not noticeable.

"Goodbye," we whispered. "Better luck with your next host."

We walked back to the van as slowly as we could stand to.

It was silent in the van as we reversed out from under the big ship. We started back the way we'd come, our heart hammering too fast. In our mirrors, the hatch remained empty. We didn't see the man emerge before the ship was out of sight.

Ian climbed into the passenger seat. "Doesn't look too hard."

"It was very good luck with the timing. You might have to wait longer for an opportunity next time."

Ian reached over to take our hand. "You're the good-luck charm."

We smiled weakly.

"Do you feel better now that she's safe?"

"Yeah."

We saw his head turn sharply as he heard the unexpected sound of a lie in our voice. We tried not to wince—of course Mel wouldn’t help me lie.

"Let's go catch some Healers," I muttered.

Ian was silent and thoughtful as we drove the short distance to the small Healing facility.

We'd thought the second task would be the challenge, the danger. The plan was that we would—if the conditions and numbers were right—try to lead a Healer or two out of the facility under the pretext that we had an injured friend in the van. An old trick, but one that would work only too well on the unsuspecting, trusting Healers.

As it turned out, we didn't even have to go in. We pulled into the lot just as two middle-aged Healers, a man and a woman wearing purple scrubs, were getting into a car. Their shift over, they were heading home. The car was around the corner from the entrance. No one else was in sight.

Ian nodded tensely.

We stopped the van right behind their car. They looked up, surprised.

We opened our door and slid out. Our voice was thick with tears, our face twisted with remorse, and that helped to fool them.

"My friend is in the back—I don't know what's wrong with him."

They responded with the instant concern we knew they would show. We hurried to open the back doors for them, and they followed right behind. Ian went around the other side. Jared was ready with the chloroform.

We didn't watch.

It took just seconds. Jared hauled the unconscious bodies into the back, and Ian slammed the doors shut. Ian stared at our tear-swollen eyes for just a second, then took the driver's seat.

We rode shotgun. He held our hand again.

"Sorry, Wanda, Mel. I know this is hard for you."

"Yes." He had no idea how hard, and for how many different reasons.

He squeezed our fingers. "But that went well, at least. You guys make an excellent charm."

Too well. Both missions had gone too perfectly, too fast. Fate was rushing us.

He drove back toward the freeway. After a few minutes, we saw a bright, familiar sign in the distance. We took a deep breath and wiped our eyes clear.

"Ian, do us a favor?"

"Anything you want."

"We want fast food."

He laughed. "No problem."

We switched seats in the parking lot, and we drove up to the ordering box.

"What do you want?" we asked Ian.

"Nothing. I'm getting a kick out of watching you do something for yourself. This has to be a first."

We didn't smile at his joke. To me, this was sort of a last meal—the final gift to the condemned. We wouldn't leave the caves again.

"Jared, how about you?"

"Two of whatever you're having."

So we ordered three cheeseburgers, three bags of fries, and three strawberry shakes.

After we got my food, Ian and we switched again so we could eat while he drove.

"Eew," he said, watching us dip a french fry into the shake.

"You should try it. It's good." We offered him a well-coated fry.

He shrugged and took it. He popped it into his mouth and chewed. "Interesting."

We laughed. "Mel thinks it's gross, too." That's why I'd cultivated the habit in the beginning. It was funny now to think how I'd gone out of my way to annoy her.

“Why are you eating now, then?” he asked, curious.

“It’s not that it _tastes_ bad,” Mel said with a grimace, popping another milkshake-coated fry into our mouth. “It’s just… gross. Weird. But Wanderer likes it, so whatever. Everyone makes sacrifices in a relationship, I guess.”

We weren’t really hungry. We'd just wanted some of the flavors we particularly remembered, one more time. Ian finished off half our burger when we were full.

We made it home without incident. We saw no sign of the Seekers' surveillance. Perhaps they'd accepted the coincidence. Maybe they thought it inevitable—wander the desert alone long enough, and something bad would happen to you. We'd had a saying like that on the Mists Planet: cross too many ice fields alone, and wind up a claw beast's meal. That was a rough translation. It sounded better in Bear.

There was a large reception waiting for us.

We smiled halfheartedly at our friends: Trudy, Geoffrey, Heath, and Heidi. Our true friends were dwindling. No Walter, no Wes. We didn't know where Lily was. This made us sad. Maybe we didn't want to live on this sad planet with so much death. Maybe nothingness was better.

It also made us sad, petty as it was, to see Lucina standing beside Lacey, with Reid and Violetta on the other side. They were talking animatedly, asking questions, it looked like Lacey was holding Freedom on her hip. He didn't look especially thrilled about this, but he was happy enough being part of the adults' conversation that he didn't squirm down.

We'd never been allowed near the child, but Lacey was already one of them. Trusted.

Mel would be too, soon.

We went straight to the south tunnel, Jared and Ian laboring under the weight of the Healers. Ian had the heavier one, the man, and sweat ran down his fair face. Jeb shooed the others back at the tunnel entrance and then followed us.

Doc was waiting for us in the hospital, rubbing his hands together absently, as if washing them.

Time continued to speed up. The brighter lamp was lit. The Healers were given No Pain and laid out facedown on the cots. Jared showed Ian how to activate the tanks. They held them ready, Ian wincing at the stunning cold. Doc stood over the female, scalpel in hand and medicines laid out in a row.

"Wanda, Mel?" he asked. “We really need a better name for you two…”

Our heart squeezed inward painfully. "Do you swear, Doc? All of my terms? Do you promise me on your own life?"

"I do. I will meet all of your terms, Wanda. I swear it."

"Jared?"

"Yes. Absolutely no killing, ever."

"Ian?"

"I'll protect them with my own life."

"Jeb?"

"It's my house. Anyone who can't abide by this agreement will have to get out."

I nodded, tears in our eyes. "Okay, then. Let's get it over with."

Doc, excited again, cut into the Healer until he could see the silver gleam. He set the scalpel quickly aside. "Now what?"

We put our hand on his.

"Trace up the back ridge. Can you feel that? Feel the shape of the segments. They get smaller toward the anterior section. Okay, at the end you should feel three small... stubby things. Do you feel what we’re talking about?"

"Yes," he breathed.

"Good. Those are the anterior antennae. Start there. Now, very gently, roll your finger under the body. Find the line of attachments. They'll feel tight, like wires."

He nodded.

We guided him a third of the way down, told him how to count if he wasn't sure. We didn't have time for counting with all the blood flowing free. We were sure the Healer's body, if she came around, would be able to help us—there must be something for that. We helped him find the biggest nodule.

"Now, rub softly in toward the body. Knead it lightly."

Doc's voice went up in pitch, turned a little panicky. "It's moving."

"That's good—it means you're doing it right. Give it time to retract. Wait ‘till it rolls up a bit, then take it into your hand."

"Okay." His voice shook.

We reached toward Ian. "Give us your hand."

We felt Ian's hand wind around ours. We turned it over, curled his hand into a cup, and pulled it close to Doc's operation site.

"Give the soul to Ian—gently, please."

Ian would be the perfect assistant. When I was gone, who else would take such care with my little relatives?

Doc passed the soul into Ian's waiting hand, then turned at once to heal the human body.

Ian stared at the silver ribbon in his hand, his face full of wonder rather than revulsion. It felt warmer inside our chest while we watched his reaction.

"It's pretty," he whispered, surprised. No matter how he felt about us, he'd been conditioned to expect a parasite, a centipede, a monster. Cleaning up severed bodies had not prepared him for the beauty here.

"We think so, too. Let it slide into your tank."

Ian held the soul cupped in his hand for one more second, as if memorizing the sight and feel. Then, with delicate care, he let it glide into the cold.

Jared showed him how to latch the lid.

A weight fell off our shoulders.

It was done. It was too late to change our mind. This didn't feel as horrible as we'd anticipated, because we felt sure these four humans would care for the souls just as we would. When we were gone.

"Look out!" Jeb suddenly shouted. The gun came up in his hands, pointed past us.

We whirled toward the danger, and Jared's tank fell to the floor as he jumped toward the male Healer, who was on his knees on the cot, staring at us in shock. Ian had the presence of mind to hold on to his tank.

"Chloroform," Jared shouted as he tackled the Healer, pinning him back down to the cot. But it was too late.

The Healer stared straight at us, his face childlike in his bewilderment. We knew why his eyes were on us—the lantern's rays danced off both his eyes and ours, making diamond patterns on the wall.

"Why?" he asked us.

Then his face went blank, and his body slumped, unresisting, to the cot. Two trails of blood flowed from his nostrils.

"No!" we screamed, lurching to his inert form, knowing it was far too late.


	26. chapter 54: FORGOTTEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not forget this Thursday's chapter :D I hope you guys like it!

"Elizabeth?" we asked. "Anne? Karen? What's your name? C'mon. We know you know it."

The Healer's body was still limp on the cot. It had been a long time—how long, we weren’t sure. Hours and hours. We hadn't slept yet, though the sun was far up in the sky. Doc had climbed out onto the mountain to pull the tarps away, and the sun beamed brightly through the holes in the ceiling, hot on our skin. We'd moved the nameless woman so that her face would be out of the glare.

We touched her face now lightly, patting the soft brown hair, woven through with white strands, away from her face.

"Julie? Brittany? Angela? Patricia? Are we getting close? Talk to me. Please?"

Everyone but Doc—snoring quietly on a cot in the darkest corner of the hospital—had gone away hours ago. Some to bury the host body we'd lost. We cringed, thinking of his bewildered question, and the sudden way his face had gone slack.

Why? he'd asked us.

We so much wished that the soul had waited for an answer, so we could have tried to explain it to him. He might even have understood. After all, what was more important, in the end, than love? To a soul, wasn't that the heart of everything? And love would have been our answer. My answer, as a soul.

Maybe, if he'd waited, he would have seen the truth of that. If he'd really understood, certainly he would have let the human body live.

The request would probably have made little sense to him, though. The body was his body, not a separate entity. His suicide was simply that to him, not a murder, too. Only one life had ended. And perhaps he was right.

At least the souls had survived. The light on his tank glowed dull red beside hers; we couldn't ask for a greater evidence of commitment from our humans than this, the sparing of his life.

"Mary? Margaret? Susan? Jill?"

Though Doc slept and we were otherwise alone, we could feel the echo of the tension the others had left behind; it still hung in the air.

The tension lingered because the woman had not woken up when the chloroform wore off. She had not moved. She was still breathing, her heart was still beating, but she had not responded to any of Doc's efforts to revive her.

Was it too late? Was she lost? Was she already gone? Just as dead as the male body?

Were all of them? Were there only a very few, like the Seeker's host, Lacey, and Melanie—the shouters, the resisters—who could be brought back? Was everyone else gone?

With a sigh, we returned to our efforts.

"We know you have a name," we told the woman. "Is it Rebecca? Alexandra? Olivia? Something simpler, maybe... Jane? Jean? Joan?"

It was better than nothing, we thought glumly. At least I'd given them a way to help themselves if they were ever taken. I could help the resisters, if no one else.

It didn't seem like enough.

"You're not giving us much to work with," we murmured. We took her hand in both of mine, chafed it softly. "It would really be nice if you would make an effort. Our friends are going to be depressed enough. They could use some good news. Besides, with Kyle still gone... It will be hard to evacuate everyone without having to carry you around, too. We know you want to help. This is your family here, you know. These are your kind. They're very nice. Most of them. You'll like them."

The gently lined face was vacant with unconsciousness. She was quite pretty in an inconspicuous way—her features very symmetrical on her oval face. Forty-five, maybe a little younger, maybe a little older. It was hard to tell with no animation in the face.

"They need you," we went on, pleading now. "You can help them. You know so much that we never knew. Doc tries so hard. He deserves some help. He's a good man. You've been a Healer for a while now; some of that care for the well-being of others must have rubbed off on you. You'll like Doc, we think.

"Is your name Sarah? Emily? Kristin?"

We stroked her soft cheek, but there was no response, so we took her limp hand in ours again. We gazed at the blue sky through the holes in the high ceiling. Our mind wandered.

"Wonder what they'll do if Kyle never comes back… How long will they hide? Will they have to find a new home somewhere else? There are so many of them... It won't be easy. I wish I could help them, but even if I could stay, we don't have any answers.

"Maybe they'll get to stay here... somehow. Maybe Kyle won't mess up." We laughed humorlessly, thinking of the odds. Kyle wasn't a careful man. However, until that situation was resolved, we were needed. Maybe, if there were Seekers looking, they would need our infallible eyes. It might take a long time, and that made us feel warmer than the sun on our skin.

Made us feel grateful that Kyle was impetuous and selfish.

How long until we were sure we were safe?

"We wonder what it's like here when it gets cold. We can barely remember feeling cold. And what if it rains? It has to rain here sometime, doesn't it? With all these holes in the roof, it must get really wet. Where does everyone sleep then…" We sighed. "Maybe we'll get to find out. Probably shouldn't bet on that, though. Aren't you curious at all? If you would wake up, you could get the answers. We’re curious. Maybe we'll ask Ian about it. It's funny to imagine things changing here... I guess summer can't last forever."

Her fingers fluttered for one second in our hand.

It took us by surprise because our mind had wandered away from the woman on the cot, beginning to sink into the melancholy that was always conveniently near these days.

We stared down at her; there was no change—the hand in mine was limp, her face still vacant. Maybe we'd imagined the movement.

"Did we say something you were interested in? What were we talking about?" We thought quickly, watching her face. "Was it the rain? Or was it the idea of change? Change? You've got a lot of that ahead of you, don't you? You have to wake up first, though."

Her face was empty, her hand motionless.

"So you don't care for change. Can't say that we blame you, it sucks. I don't want change to come, either,” Mel said. “Are you like us? Do you wish the summer could last?"

If we hadn't been watching her face so closely, we wouldn't have seen the tiny flicker of her lids.

"You like summertime, do you?" we asked hopefully.

Her lips twitched.

"Summer?"

Her hand trembled.

"Is that your name—Summer? Summer? That's a pretty name."

Her hand tightened into a fist, and her lips parted.

"Come back, Summer. We know you can do it. Summer? Listen to me, Summer. Open your eyes, Summer."

Her eyes blinked rapidly.

"Doc!" we called over our shoulder. "Doc, wake up!"

"Huh?"

"We think she's coming around!" We turned back to the woman. "Keep it up, Summer. You can do this. We know it's hard. Summer, Summer, Summer. Open your eyes."

Her face grimaced—was she in pain?

"Bring the No Pain, Doc. Hurry."

The woman squeezed our hand, and her eyes opened. They didn't focus at first, just whirled around the bright cave. What a strange, unexpected sight this place must have been for her.

"You're going to be all right, Summer. You're going to be fine. Can you hear us, Summer?"

Her eyes wheeled back to us, the pupils constricting. She stared, absorbing our face. Then she cringed away from us, twisting on the cot to escape. A low, hoarse cry of panic broke through her lips.

"No, no, no," she cried. "No more."

"Doc!"

He was there, on the other side of the cot, like before, when we were operating.

"It's okay, ma'am," he assured her. "No one is going to hurt you here."

The woman had her eyes squeezed shut, and she recoiled into the thin mattress.

"I think her name is Summer."

He flashed a look at me and then made a face. "Eyes, Wanda," he breathed.

We blinked and realized that the sun was on our face. "Oh." We let the woman pull her hand free.

"Don't, please," the woman begged. "Not again."

"Shh," Doc murmured. "Summer? People call me Doc. No one's going to do anything to you. You're going to be fine."

We eased away from them, into the shadows.

"Don't call me that!" the woman sobbed. "That's not my name! It's hers, it's hers! Don't say it again!"

We’d gotten the wrong name. Guilt washed over us, than was stamped down.

 _It’s not our fault, it’s a human name too_ , Mel muttered.

"Of course not," Doc promised. "What is your name?"

"I-I-I don't know!" she wailed. "What happened? Who was I? Don't make me be someone else again."

She tossed and thrashed on the cot.

"Calm down; it's going to be okay, I promise. No one's going to make you be anyone but you, and you'll remember your name. It's going to come back."

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Who's she? She's like... like I was. I saw her eyes!"

"I'm Doc. And I'm human, just like you. See?" He moved his face into the light and blinked at her. "We're both just ourselves. There are lots of humans here. They'll be so happy to meet you."

She cringed again. "Humans! I'm afraid of humans."

"No, you're not. The... person who used to be in your body was afraid of humans. She was a soul, remember that? And then remember before that, before she was there? You were human then, and you are again."

"I can't remember my name," she told him in a panicked voice.

"I know. It'll come back."

"Are you a doctor?"

"I am."

"I was... she was, too. A... Healer. Like a doctor. She was Summer Song. Who am I?"

"We'll find out. I promise you that."

We edged toward the exit. Trudy would be a good person to help Doc, or maybe Heidi. Someone with a calming face.

"She's not human!" the woman whispered urgently to Doc, her eye caught by our movement.

"She's a friend; don't be afraid. She helped me bring you back."

"Where is Summer Song? She was scared. There were humans..."

We ducked out the door while she was distracted.

We heard Doc answer the question behind us. "She's going to a new planet. Do you remember where she was before she came here?"

We could guess what her answer would be from the name.

"She was... a Bat? She could fly... She could sing... I remember... but it was... not here. Where am I?"

We hurried down the hall to find help for Doc. We were surprised when we saw the light of the great cavern ahead—surprised because it was so quiet. Usually you could hear voices before you saw the light. It was the middle of the day. There should have been someone in the big garden room, if only crossing through.

We walked out into the bright noon light, and the giant space was empty.

The fresh tendrils of the cantaloupe vines were dark green, darker than the dry earth they sprang from. The earth was too dry—the irrigating barrel stood ready to fix that, the hoses laid out along the furrows. But no one manned the crude machine. It sat abandoned on the side of the field.

We stood very still, trying to hear something. The huge cavern was silent, and the silence was ominous. Where was everyone?

Had they evacuated without us? A pang of fear and hurt shot through us. But they wouldn't have left without Doc, of course. They would never leave Doc. We wanted to dart back through the long tunnel to make sure Doc had not disappeared, too.

_They wouldn't go without us, either, silly. Jared and Jamie and Ian wouldn't leave us behind._

_You're right. You're right. Let's... check the kitchen?_

We jogged down the silent corridor, getting more anxious as the silence continued. Maybe it was our imagination, and the loud thumping of our pulse in my ears. Of course there must be something to hear. If we could calm down and slow our breathing, we'd be able to hear voices.

But we reached the kitchen and it was empty, too. Empty of people. On the tables, half-eaten lunches had been abandoned. Peanut butter on the last of the soft bread. Apples and warm cans of soda.

Our stomach reminded us that we hadn't eaten at all today, but we barely noted the twist of hunger. The panic was so much stronger.

What if... what if we didn't evacuate soon enough?

Panic swept through us.

 _We would have heard something_ , Mel said, frantic.

 _They’d still be looking around for people_ , I said, desperate.

_They wouldn’t give up until they checked everything!_

_So what—?_

_Unless they're looking for us now,_ Mel whispered.

We spun back toward the door, our eyes darting through the shadows.

We had to go warn Doc. We had to get out of here if we were the last two. The thought of Jamie, Jared, and Ian gone was like a sword to our chest. Their faces were so clear, as if they were etched onto the insides of our eyelids.

 _We’ll get them back_ , Melanie snarled.

 _We’ll hunt them down one by one and steal them back_ , I completed, hands curling into white-knuckled fists.

And then the noise, the babble of voices we'd been so anxiously straining to hear, echoed down the hall to us and made our breath catch. We slid silently to the wall and pressed ourselves into the shadow there, listening.

 _The big garden. You can hear it in the echoes_ , I muttered.

 _Sounds like a large group_.

_Yes. But yours or mine?_

_Ours or theirs_ , she corrected.

We crept down the hall, keeping to the darkest shadows. We could hear the voices more clearly now, and some of them were familiar. Did that mean anything? How long would it take trained Seekers to perform an insertion?

And then, as we reached the very mouth of the great cave, the sounds became even clearer, and relief washed through me—because the babble of voices was just the same as it had been our very first day here. Murderously angry.

They had to be human voices.

Kyle must be back.

Relief warred with pain as we hurried into the bright sunlight to see what was going on. Relief because our family was safe. And pain because if Kyle was already safely back, then...

 _We still need you_ , Mel said quickly.

_I'm sure I could find excuses forever, Mel. There will always be some reason._

_Then stay._

_And disappear?_

We stopped arguing as we assessed the commotion in the cavern.

Kyle was back—the easiest one to spot, the tallest in the crowd, the only one facing us. He was pinned against the far wall by the mob. Though he was the cause of the angry noise, he was not the source of it. His face was conciliatory, pleading. He held his arms out to the sides, palms back, as if there was something behind him he was trying to protect.

"Just calm down, okay?" His deep voice carried over the cacophony. "Back off, Jared, you're scaring her!"

A flash of black hair behind his elbow---an unfamiliar face, with wide, terrified black eyes, peeked around at the crowd.

Jared was closest to Kyle. We could see that the back of his neck was bright red. Jamie clung to one of his arms, holding him back. Ian was on his other side, his arms crossed in front of him, the muscles in his shoulders tight with strain. Behind them, every other human but Doc and Jeb was massed in an angry throng. They surged behind Jared and Ian, asking loud, angry questions.

"What were you thinking?"

"How dare you?"

"Why'd you come back at all?"

Jeb was in the back corner, just watching.

Sharon 's brilliant hair caught our eye. We were surprised to see her, with Maggie, right in the center of the crowd. They'd both been so little a part of life here ever since Doc and we had healed Jamie. Never in the middle of things.

 _It's the fight_ , Mel guessed. _They weren't comfortable with happiness, but they're at home with fury_.

_How... disturbing._

We heard a shrill voice throwing out some of the angry questions and realized that Lacey was part of the crowd, too.

"Wanda?" Kyle's voice carried across the noise again, and we looked up to see his deep blue eyes locked on us. "There you are! Could you please come and give me a little help here?"


	27. chapter 55: ATTACHED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I'm sorry for this unplanned, unannounced break, and thanks everyone who left comments! I'm alright. The story's finished, remember, and I'll still post all of it. (Leave a comment if you want me to post two chaps today instead of one to make up for this pause! We're so close to the end...) The truth is... I'm not sure what happened. I forgot I had an ao3 and that I was posting this. I don't know what news of Brazil reach other countries, but things are not good here. Things have been hard. But I'm alright, and my fam is alright. I hope you guys are, too.  
> Onto the chapter! I hope you like it.

Jeb cleared a path for us, pushing people aside with his rifle as though they were sheep and the gun a shepherd's staff.

"That's enough," he growled at those who complained. "You'll get a chance to dress 'im down later. We all will. Let's get this sorted out first, okay? Let me through."

From the corner of our eye, we saw Sharon and Maggie fall to the back of the crowd, melting away from the reinstatement of reason. Away from our involvement, really, more than anything else. Both with jaws locked, they continued to glare at Kyle.

Jared and Ian were the last two Jeb shoved aside. We brushed both of their arms as we passed, hoping to help calm them.

"Okay, Kyle," Jeb said, smacking the barrel of the gun against his palm. "Don't try to excuse yourself, 'cause there ain't no excuse. I'm plain torn between kickin' ya out and shootin' ya now."

The little face, pale under the deep tan of her skin, peeped around Kyle's shoulder again with a swish of long, curly black hair. The woman’s mouth was hanging open in horror, her dark eyes frantic. We thought we could see a faint sheen to those eyes, a hint of silver behind the black.

"But right now, let's calm everybody down." Jeb turned around, gun held low across his body, and suddenly it was as if he were guarding Kyle and the little face behind him. He glared at the mob. "Kyle's got a guest, and you're scarin' the snot out of her, people. I think you can all dig up some better manners than that. Now, all of you clear out and get to work on something useful. My cantaloupes are dying. Somebody do something about that, hear?"

He waited until the muttering crowd slowly dispersed. Now that we could see their faces, I could tell that they were already getting over it, most of them, anyway. This wasn't so bad, not after what they'd been fearing the last few days. Yes, Kyle was a self-absorbed idiot, their faces seemed to say, but at least he was back, no harm done. No evacuation, no danger of the Seekers. No more than usual, anyway. He'd brought another worm back, but then, weren't the caves full of them these days?

It just wasn't as shocking as it used to be.

Many went back toward their interrupted lunch, others returned to the irrigation barrel, others to their rooms. Soon only Jared, Ian, and Jamie were left beside us. Jeb looked at these three with a cross expression; his mouth opened, but before he could order them away again, Ian took our hand, and then Jamie grabbed the other. We felt another hand on our wrist, just above Jamie's. Jared.

Jeb rolled his eyes at the way they'd tethered themselves to us to avoid expulsion, and then turned his back on us.

"Thanks, Jeb," Kyle said.

"Shut the hell up, Kyle. Just keep your stupid mouth shut. I'm dead serious about shooting you, you worthless maggot."

There was a weak whimper from behind Kyle.

"Okay, Jeb. But could you save the death threats till we're alone? She's terrified enough. You remember how that kind of stuff freaks Wanda out." Kyle smiled at us—we felt shock cross our face in reaction, then anger—and then he turned to the woman hiding behind him with the gentlest expression we'd ever seen on his face. "See, Sunny? This is Wanda, the one I told you about. She'll help us—she won't let anyone hurt you, just like me."

The small woman stared at me, her eyes huge with fright. Kyle put his arms around her waist, and she let him pull her into his side. She clung there, as if he were an anchor, her pillar of safety. She was tiny against him, fat and curvy, so different from him that the sight was almost funny.

"Kyle's right." Never thought we'd say that. We smiled at her, then tried to make it not so sharp. "We won't let anyone hurt you. Your name is Sunny?”

The woman's eyes flashed up to Kyle's face.

"It's okay. You don't have to be afraid of Wanda. She's just like you." He turned to us. "Her real name is longer, something about ice."

"Sunlight Passing Through the Ice," she whispered to us.

We saw Jeb's eyes brighten with his unquenchable curiosity.

"She doesn't mind being called just Sunny, though. She said it was fine," Kyle assured us.

Sunny nodded. Her eyes flickered from our face to Kyle's and back again. The other men were totally silent and totally motionless. The little circle of calm soothed her a bit, we could see. She must have been able to feel the change in the atmosphere. There was no hostility toward her, none at all.

"I was a Bear, too, Sunny," we told her, trying to make her feel just a little more comfortable. "They called me Lives in the Stars, then. Wanderer, here." There was no need to confuse her trying to explain our situation with Mel.

"Lives in the Stars," she whispered, her eyes somehow, impossibly, getting wider. "Rides the Beast."

We suppressed a groan. "You lived in the second crystal city."

"Yes. I heard the story so many times..."

"Did you like being a Bear, Sunny?" we asked quickly. We didn't really want to get into my history right now. "Were you happy there?"

Her face crumpled at our questions; her eyes locked onto Kyle's face and filled with tears.

"Sorry," we said, looking to Kyle, too, for an explanation.

He patted her arm. "Don't be afraid. You won't be hurt. I promised."

We could barely hear her answering whisper. "But I like it here. I want to stay."

Her words brought a thick lump to our throat.

"I know, Sunny. I know." Kyle put his hand on the back of her head and, in a gesture so tender it made our eyes smart, held her face against his chest.

Jeb cleared his throat, and Sunny started and cringed. It was easy to imagine the frayed state her nerves must be in. Souls were not designed to handle violence and terror. Sunny really seemed to embody the essence of the gentle, timid species; we were powerful only in great numbers.

"Sorry, Sunny," Jeb said. "Didn't mean to scare you, there. Maybe we ought to get out of here, though." His eyes swept around the cave, where a few people lingered by the exits, gawking at us. He stared hard at Reid and Lucina, and they ducked down the corridor toward the kitchen. "Probably ought to git along to Doc," Jeb continued with a sigh, giving the frightened little woman a wistful glance. He was probably sad to be missing out on new stories.

"Right," Kyle said. He kept his arm firmly around Sunny's tiny waist and pulled her with him toward the southern tunnel.

We followed right behind, towing the others who still adhered to us.

Jeb paused, and we all stopped with him. He jabbed the butt of his gun into Jamie's hip.

"Ain't you got school, kid?"

"Aw, Uncle Jeb, please? Please? I don't want to miss—"

"Get your behind to class."

Jamie turned his hurt eyes on us, but Jeb was absolutely right. This wasn’t something we wanted Jamie to see. We shrugged and shook our head at him.

"Could you get Trudy on your way?" we asked. "Doc needs her."

Jamie's shoulders slumped, and he pulled his hand out of ours. Jared's slid down from our wrist to take its place.

"I miss everything," Jamie moaned as he turned back the other way.

"Thanks, Uncle Jeb," we whispered when Jamie was out of hearing.

"Yep."

The long tunnel seemed blacker than before because we could feel the fear radiating from the woman ahead of us.

"It's okay," Kyle murmured to her. "There's nothing that's going to hurt you, and I'm here."

We wondered who this strange man was, the one who had come back in Kyle's place. Had they checked his eyes? We couldn't believe that the man who had tried to brutally murder us could carry such gentleness in him, and for a soul. It probably helped a lot that this was a body he loved, and that he knew her hours were counted.

"How's the Healer?" Jared asked us.

"She woke up, just before we came to find you," we said.

We heard more than one sigh of relief in the darkness.

"She's disoriented, though, and very frightened," we warned them all. "She can't remember her name. Doc's working with her. She's going to be even more scared when she sees all of you. Try to be quiet and move slowly, okay?"

"Yes, yes," the voices whispered in the darkness.

"And, Uncle Jeb, do you think you could lose the gun? She's a little afraid of humans still."

"Uh—okay," Jeb answered.

"Afraid of humans?" Kyle murmured.

"We're the bad guys," Ian reminded him, squeezing our hand.

We squeezed it back, glad for the warmth of his touch, the pressure of his fingers.

How much longer would I have the feeling of a hand warm around mine? When was the last time I would walk down this tunnel? Was it this time?

 _No. Not yet_ , Mel whispered.

We were suddenly trembling. Ian's hand tightened again, and so did Jared's.

We walked in silence for a few moments.

"Kyle?" Sunny's timid voice asked.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to go back to the Bears."

"You don't have to. You can go somewhere else."

"But I can't stay here?"

"No. I'm sorry, Sunny."

There was a little hitch in her breathing. We were glad it was dark. No one could see the tears that started rolling down our face. We had no free hand to wipe them away, so we let them fall onto our shirt.

We finally reached the end of the tunnel. The sunlight streamed from the mouth of the hospital, reflecting off the dust motes dancing in the air. We could hear Doc murmuring inside.

"That's very good," he was saying. "Keep thinking of details. You know your old address—your name can't be far behind, eh? How does this feel? Not tender?"

"Careful," we whispered.

Kyle paused at the edge of the arch, Sunny still clinging to his side, and motioned for us to go first.

We took a deep breath and walked slowly into Doc's place. We announced our presence in a low, even voice. "Hello."

The Healer's host started and gasped out a little shriek.

"Just me again," we said reassuringly.

"It's Wanda," Doc reminded her.

The woman was sitting up now, and Doc was sitting beside her with his hand on her arm.

"That's the soul," the woman whispered anxiously to Doc.

"Yes, but she's a friend."

The woman eyed me doubtfully.

"Doc? You've got a few more visitors. Is that okay?"

Doc looked at the woman. "These are all friends, all right? More of the humans who live here with me. None of them would ever dream of hurting you. Can they come in?"

The woman hesitated, then nodded cautiously. "Okay," she whispered.

"This is Ian," we said, motioning him forward. "And Jared, and Jeb." One by one, they walked into the room and stood beside us. "And this is Kyle and... uh, Sunny."

Doc's eyes bugged wide as Kyle, Sunny attached to his side, entered the room.

"Are there any more?" the woman whispered.

Doc cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "Yes. There are a lot of people who live here. All... well, mostly humans," he added, staring at Sunny.

"Trudy is on her way," we told Doc. "Maybe Trudy could..." We glanced at Sunny and Kyle. "... find a room for... her to rest in?"

Doc nodded, still wide-eyed. "That might be a good idea."

"Who's Trudy?" the woman whispered.

"She's very nice. She'll take care of you."

"Is she human, or is she like that one?" She nodded toward us.

"She's human."

This seemed to ease the woman's mind.

"Oh," Sunny gasped behind us.

We turned to see her staring at the cryotanks that held the Healers. They were standing in the middle of Doc's desk, the lights on top glowing muted red. On the floor in front of the desk, the seven remaining empty tanks were piled in an untidy heap.

Tears sprang to Sunny's eyes again, and she buried her face against Kyle's chest.

"I don't want to go! I want to stay with you," she moaned to the big man she seemed to trust so completely.

"I know, Sunny. I'm sorry."

Sunny broke down into sobs.

We blinked fast, trying to keep the tears from our own eyes. We crossed the small space to where Sunny stood, hesitantly only minutely at getting so close to Kyle, and stroked her springy black hair.

"We need to talk to her for a minute, Kyle," we murmured.

He nodded, his face troubled, and pulled the clinging girl from his side.

"No, no," she begged.

"It's okay," we promised. "He's not going anywhere. I just want to ask you a few questions."

Kyle turned her to face us, and her arms locked around us. We pulled her to the far corner of the room, as far from the nameless woman as we could get. We didn't want our conversation to confuse or frighten the Healer's host any more than she already was. Kyle followed, never more than a few inches away. We sat on the floor, facing the wall.

"Jeez," Kyle murmured. "I didn't think it would be like this. This really sucks."

"How did you find her? And catch her?" we asked. She didn't react as I questioned him; she just kept crying on our shoulder. She was half a head shorter than us, just enough to make it comfortable. "What happened? Why is she like this?"

"Well, I thought she might be in Las Vegas. I went there first, before I went on to Portland. See, Jodi was really close to her mother, and that's where Doris lived. I thought, seeing how you were about Jared and the kid, that maybe she would go there, even when she wasn't Jodi. And I was right. They were all there at the same old house, Doris 's house: Doris, and her husband, Warren—they had other names, but I didn't hear them clearly—and Sunny. I watched them all day, until it was nighttime. Sunny was in Jodi's old room, alone. I snuck in after they'd all been asleep for hours. I yanked Sunny up, threw her over my shoulder, and jumped out the window. I thought she was going to start screaming, so I was really booking it back to the jeep. Then I was afraid because she didn't start screaming. She was just so quiet! I was afraid she had... you know. Like that guy we caught once."

We winced—we had a more recent memory.

"So I pulled her off my shoulder, and she was alive, just staring up at me, all wide-eyed. Still not screaming. I carried her back to the jeep. I'd been planning to tie her up, but... she didn't look that upset. She wasn't trying to get away, at least. So I just buckled her in and started driving.

"She just stared at me for a long time, and then finally she said, ‘You're Kyle,' and I said, ‘Yeah, who are you?' and she told me her name. What is it again?"

"Sunlight Passing Through the Ice," Sunny whispered brokenly. "I like Sunny, though. It's nice."

"Anyway," Kyle went on after clearing his throat. "She didn't mind talking to me at all. She wasn't afraid like I'd thought she'd be. So we talked." He was quiet for a moment. "She was happy to see me."

"I used to dream about him all the time," Sunny whispered with a sigh. "Every night. I kept hoping the Seekers would find him; I missed him so much... When I saw him, I thought it was the old dream again."

We swallowed loudly.

Kyle reached across us to lay his hand on her cheek.

"She's a good kid, Wanda. Can't we send her someplace really nice?"

Part of us wanted to punch him, to get him as far away from this gentle thing as possible. His gentleness didn’t fool us, as genuine as it was. He had almost killed us. He had almost drowned us.

"That's what we wanted to ask her about,” we said through gritted teeth. We softened when we turned to her. “Where have you lived, Sunny?"

We were vaguely aware of the subdued voices of the others, greeting Trudy's arrival. We had our backs to them. We wanted to see what was going on, but we were also glad not to have the distraction. We tried to concentrate on the crying soul.

"Just here and with the Bears. I was there five life terms. But I like it better here. I haven't had even a quarter of a life term here!"

"I know. Believe us, we understand. Is there anywhere else, though, that you've ever wanted to go? The Flowers, maybe? It's nice there; we've been."

"I don't want to be a plant," she mumbled into our shoulder.

"The Spiders..." we began, but then let our voice trail off. The Spiders were not the right place for Sunny.

"I'm tired of cold. And I like colors."

"We know." We sighed. "We haven't been a Dolphin, but we hear it's nice there. Color, mobility, family..."

"They're all so far away. By the time I got anywhere, Kyle would be... He'd be..." She hiccuped and then started crying again.

"Don't you have any other choices?" Kyle asked anxiously. "Aren't there a lot more places out there?"

We could hear Trudy talking to the Healer's host, but we tuned out the words. Let the humans take care of their own for the moment.

"Not that the off-world ships are going to," we told him, shaking our head. "There are lots of worlds, but only a few, mostly the newer ones, are still open for settling. And we’re sorry, Sunny, but we have to send you far away. The Seekers want to find our friends here, and they'd bring you back if they could, so you could show them the way."

"I don't even know the way," she sobbed. Our shoulder was drenched with her tears. "He covered my eyes."

Kyle looked at us as if we could produce some kind of miracle to make this all work out perfectly. Like the medicine we'd provided, some kind of magic. But we knew that we were out of magic, out of happy endings—for the soul half of the equation, at least.

We stared back hopelessly at Kyle. "It's just the Bears, the Flowers, and the Dolphins," we said. "We won't send her to the Fire Planet."

The small woman shuddered at the name.

"Don't worry, Sunny. You'll like the Dolphins. They'll be nice. Of course they'll be nice."

She sobbed harder.

We sighed and moved on.

"Sunny, I need to ask you about Jodi."

Kyle stiffened beside us.

"What about her?" Sunny mumbled.

"Is she... is she in there with you? Can you hear her?"

Sunny sniffed and looked up at us. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Does she ever talk to you? Are you ever aware of her thoughts?"

"My... body's? Her thoughts? She doesn't have any. I'm here now."

We nodded slowly.

"Is that bad?" Kyle whispered.

“We don't know enough about it to tell. It's probably not good, though."

Kyle's eyes tightened. Something about it made our smile more honest. It was monstrous to be happy about something like this, but Mel’s protective fury would be singing with vindication if we let it leave our lips.

"How long have you been here, Sunny?"

She frowned, thinking. "How long is it, Kyle? Five years? Six? You disappeared before I came home."

"Six," he said.

"And how old are you?" we asked her.

"I'm twenty-seven."

She was six years older than Melanie. We wondered, suddenly, how old Ian and Kyle were.

"Why does that matter?" Kyle asked.

"We’re not sure. It just seems like the more time someone spent as a human before they became a soul, the better chance they might have at... making a recovery. The greater the percentage of their life they spent human, the more memories they have, the more connections, the more years being called by the right name... we don't know."

"Is twenty-one years enough?" he asked, his voice desperate.

"I guess we'll find out."

"It's not fair!" Sunny wailed. "Why do you get to stay? Why can't I stay, if you can?"

We had to swallow hard. "That wouldn't be fair, would it? But I don't get to stay, Sunny,” I said. “I have to go, too. And soon. Maybe we'll leave together." Perhaps she'd be happier if she thought I was going to the Dolphins with her. By the time she knew otherwise, Sunny would have a different host with different emotions, and maybe she would be beyond all this. Maybe. Anyway, it would be too late. "I have to go, Sunny, just like you. We have to give this body back, too."

And then, flat and hard from right behind us, Ian's voice broke the quiet like the crack of a whip.

"What?"


	28. chapter 56: WELDED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this has made me realize just how odd some of these chapter names are. WELDED, Meyer?  
> Anyway, ask and ye shall receive! ......a day later, but still!  
> Thank you for all the lovely comments. From Oregon and Norway and everywhere else--thank you. It warmed my heart and made my entire week better. I'm glad we're all here, and that you're reading this with me.  
> This is an important chapter! I'd like to know your opinion about it, so drop a comment if you can!

Ian glared down at the three of us with such fury that Sunny shivered in terror. It was an odd thing—as if Kyle and Ian had switched faces. Except Ian's face was still perfect, unbroken. Beautiful, even though it was enraged.

"Ian?" Kyle asked, bewildered. "What's the problem?"

Ian spoke from between his locked teeth. "Wanda," he growled, and held his hand out. It looked as if he was having a hard time keeping that hand open, not clenching it into a fist.

Misery swept through us. I didn't want to say goodbye to Ian, and now I would have to. Of course we had to. It would be wrong to sneak out in the night like a thief and leave all our goodbyes to Melanie. But it was a wound, to think of his pain.

Ian, tired of waiting, grabbed our arm and hauled us up from the floor. Sunny was snatched along with us, still joined to our side. Ian shook us until she fell off.

"What is with you?" Kyle demanded.

We blinked, open-mouthed with shock at how he was manhandling us. We stared at him, then our face twisted with anger. We wrenched our arm from his grip.

“What the fuck do you think you’re _doing?_ ”

"C'mon," Ian snarled, and tried to grab us again.

We took a step back, hands curling into fists.

“ _No._ You don’t get to treat us like that.”

He paused, red-faced with—

 _Fury_ , Mel snapped.

 _Pain_ , I whispered. He was choosing to be angry instead of hurt, because the pain was too much.

We decided to spare him and started to march forward. He blinked in surprise—but a scowl quickly came back to his face and he marched along.

We saw everyone's startled face flash by in a blur. We were worried he was going to upset the unnamed woman. She wasn't used to anger and violence.

We jerked to a stop. Jared was blocking the exit.

“Wanda, think about what you’re doing,” he said in warning.

"Did you know about this?" Ian shouted, hands curled in fists, anger redirected. Behind us, a whimper. He was scaring them.

"You don’t even know what’s going on!" Jared said.

"Do you know what they’re planning?" Ian roared.

Jared stared at Ian, his face suddenly closed off. He didn't answer.

That was answer enough for Ian.

Ian's fist struck Jared so fast that we missed the blow—we just felt the lurch in his body and saw Jared reel back into the dark hall. We grabbed Ian and wrenched him back, away from Jared.

“Ian, what the fuck! Don’t hurt him!”

He didn’t say anything, just kept marching through into the tunnel, then turned north. We followed him, now simmering with anger too, like his fury was only compounding ours, making it worse.

"O'Shea!" Jared shouted after us.

There was nothing but silence and blackness behind us now. We went so quickly we almost stumbled in the dark.

We walked right through the big plaza, ignoring the surprised and even suspicious faces. There was too much that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable going on in the caves right now. The humans here—Violetta, Geoffrey, Andy, Paige, Aaron, Brandt, and more we couldn't see well as we jolted past—were skittish. It disturbed them to see Ian running headlong through them, face twisted with rage, with us marching behind him.

And then they were behind us. He didn't pause until we reached the doors leaning against his and Kyle's room. He kicked the red one out of the way—it hit the stone floor with an echoing boom—and paused in the middle of the room like he was poised on the tip of a knife, like he couldn’t move a single muscle or he would break apart.

His chest heaved with exertion and fury. We kicked the door back into place with one swift wrench.

“You,” he said, turning to us. “You are not _leaving me._ ” His eyes blazed, burning brighter than we had ever seen them. Blue flames.

“You need to _calm down_ ,” we snapped in turn.

“You can’t,” he started, then paused, like he didn’t know how to continue. “You can’t,” he repeated, strangled.

“We can’t stay,” we said, closing our eyes tightly shut. “We can’t stay like we are now. We can’t be together without disappearing.”

“What does that even _mean?!_ ”

“You know what it means,” we said, because Ian wasn’t a fool. We drooped where we stood. “I have to go, Ian.”

Ian’s expression crumpled and he took two striding steps to us. He locked his arms around us, burying his face on our shoulder, and we tried not to cry. We wound an arm around his waist and another around his head, burying our hand in his hair, holding him close. He shook—he was shaking hard, and loud, desperate sobs started to break out of his chest.

"No, Ian, no," we begged. This was so much worse than his anger. We cried too, holding on. "Don't, please. Please, don't."

"Wanda," he moaned.

"Ian, please. Don't feel this way. Don't. We’re sorry. Please."

"You can't leave."

"I have to, I have to," we sobbed.

We cried wordlessly for a long time.

His tears dried before ours did. Eventually, he straightened up and pulled us into his arms again, now cradling us to him instead of the contrary. He waited until we were able to speak.

"Sorry," he whispered. "For the—for grabbing you like that.”

“We should have told you, when you didn't guess,” we said to his shirt, voice muffled. Our back was hurting from our hunched position, but he was just taller enough to make it bearable. “We just... we couldn't. We didn't want to tell you—to hurt you—to hurt us. It was selfish."

"We need to talk about this, Wanda. It's not a done deal. It can't be."

"It is."

He shook his head, clenching his teeth. "How long? How long have you been planning this?"

"Since the Seeker," we whispered.

He nodded, seeming to expect this answer. "And you thought that you had to give up your secret to save her. I can understand that. But that doesn't mean you have to go anywhere. Just because Doc knows now... that doesn't mean anything. If I'd thought for one minute that it did, that one action equaled the other, I wouldn't have stood there and let you show him. No one is going to force you to lie down on his blasted gurney! I'll break his hands if he tries to touch you!"

"Ian."

"They can't make you, Wanda!”

“No one is making Wanderer do anything,” we said, voice harsh, and Ian’s mouth snapped shut. “The Seeker was just… it just made us decide faster. It made Wanderer decide faster,” Mel corrected, quiet. “She’s doing it for me, Ian. For Mel.”

His expression twisted. “Mel…”

"I can give her back to herself,” I whispered. “I can save her before it’s too late, before we both break under whatever it is we are now.”

"You deserve a life, too, Wanda. You deserve to stay."

"But I love her, Ian."

He closed his eyes, and his pale lips went dead white.

"But I love you," he whispered. "Doesn't that matter?"

"I love her too, but she won’t listen,” Mel said, pressing our forehead against his.

“Mel, how can you—what do you—”

“I can’t stop her,” Mel said wetly. “And I—I don’t want to disappear, Ian. And this—hurts. Being this. But I don’t know how to keep her. I don’t know how to be myself and keep her too.”

“There has to be a way,” he said, desperate, arms tightening around us. “You two—are you sure you can’t—be apart? Take turns? I don’t know! I can’t… I can’t bear this,” he whispered. “Please, I love you. I _love you._ ”

We leaned away and cradled his face in our hands. He was beloved. In all our complicated layers, we knew this. Whoever we were, whoever it was Ian loved, we loved him too.

“We love you too,” we whispered. “Wanderer and Mel and whoever we are like this. But this isn’t sustainable. We can’t bear it, either. We’re pulled in so many directions.”

He closed his eyes again. His thick black lashes were wet with tears. We could see them glisten. We swiped a thumb on his cheek, catching his tears before they could fall off his face. He didn’t try to tell us he loved Wanderer. He didn’t try to pretend that things weren’t much more complicated than that.

We brought him closer to us, then kissed him.

His lips were soft, and slid against ours wetly, smoothly; we opened our mouth and tasted the salt of our tears on his tongue. There was no desperate heat like there was with Jared, no fuse, no fire, only all of us together, unbearably alive. His nose poked our cheek and our eyes burned with too much salt, and his arms were too tight around our waist like our hands were too hard on his face. Imperfect. Real.

We kissed like we would never stop, like separation wasn’t the inevitable thing it was.

He walked forward and we stumbled back, and we gasped when our back hit the door. He held us against it, pressing all his weight against us like he could fuse into us, meld into us, become the third part of our being; inseparable.

Our love was like molten rock beneath the surface of the earth, quietly and anonymously churning the world along.

Whoever we were, we belonged to him, and in that moment we rejoiced, fervently and selfishly, at his belonging to us. He would not love Melanie like he loved us. He would not love Wanderer like he loved us, either, if he could have only her, like he thought he wanted.

He moved his lips to the corner of our mouth, to our cheek, then to our eyelid, kissing it like it was a fragile petal.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, which was when we realized we were crying. “Don’t cry. You’re staying with me. I don’t care. We can make it work with Jared, we’ll make it work, all of us, somehow.”

We laughed wetly. “Yeah? With Jared and Melanie as ferociously jealous of each other as Melanie is of Wanderer, and Wanderer quietly coming apart at not being loved by Jared, and with both of us loving you so bad that it hurts, all the while you loving us while saying you only love Wanda, and Wanderer and Mel slowly losing their minds to become us—somehow we’ll make it work?”

"It's a strange universe," he murmured. “I’ve seen more impossible things.”

"It's not fair," we complained, echoing Sunny's words, nosing at his cheek. It wasn't fair. How could we find this, find a new love—now, in this eleventh hour—and have to leave it?

Was it fair that Ian would suffer? He deserved happiness if anyone did. It wasn't fair or right or even... sane. How could we do this to him?

But there were so many wrongs, so much unfairness. We couldn’t fix _everything._

"We love you," we whispered.

"Don't say that like you're saying goodbye."

But we had to. "We, the soul called Wanderer and the human called Melanie, love you, Ian O’Shea. And that will never change, no matter what we might become." We worded it carefully, so that there would be no lie in our voice. "If we were a Dolphin or a Bear or a Flower, it wouldn't matter. We would always love you, always remember you."

His throat constricted. “You would follow me. You would survive the worst horrors and nearly die in the desert to come to me, like Mel did for Jared.”

“We would,” we whispered.

"You're not wandering off anywhere. You're staying here."

"Ian…"

But his voice was brusque now—angry again, but also businesslike. "This isn't just for me. You're a part of this community, and you aren't getting kicked out without discussion. You are far too important to us all—even to the ones who would never admit it. We need you."

"No one's kicking us out, Ian."

"No. Not even _you_ , Wanda. You can’t fool me with this _us_ business. I _know_ Mel isn’t happy with this."

He kissed us again, his mouth rougher with the return of the anger. We kissed him, feeling heat coil in our belly, shivering from it.

"Good or bad?" he asked.

"Good."

"That's what I thought." And his voice was firm. “Let's go."

"Where? Where are we going?" We weren’t going anywhere, we knew that. And yet how our heart pounded when we thought of going away, somewhere, anywhere, with Ian. Our Ian. He was ours, the way Jared never would be, because Jared was Melanie’s.

"Don't give me any trouble about this, Wanderer. I'm half out of my mind." He pulled us both to our feet.

"Where?" we insisted.

"You're going down the eastern tunnel, past the field, to the end."

"The game room?"

"Yes. And then you are going to wait there until I get the rest of them."

"Why?" His words sounded crazy to us. Did he want to play a game? To ease the tension again?

"Because this will be discussed. I'm calling a tribunal, Wanderer, and you are going to abide by our decision."


	29. chapter 57: COMPLETED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new Monday dawns and we are back on schedule! That means next chapter drops Thursday.  
> I hope you guys like it :)

It was a small tribunal this time, not like the trial for Kyle's life. Ian brought only Jeb, Doc, and Jared. He knew without having to be told that Jamie must not be allowed anywhere near these proceedings.

Melanie would have to give that goodbye for me. I couldn't face that, not with Jamie. I didn't care if it was cowardly of me. I wouldn't do it.

Just one blue lamp, one dim circle of light on the stone floor. We sat on the edge of the ring of light; we were alone, the four men facing us. Jeb had even brought his gun—as if it were a gavel and would make this more official.

The smell of sulfur brought back the painful days of our mourning; there were some memories that I would not regret losing when I was gone.

"How is she?" we asked Doc urgently as they settled in, before they could get started. This tribunal was a waste of my small store of time. We were worried about more important things.

"Which one?" he responded in a weary voice.

We stared at him for a few seconds, and then our eyes grew wide. "Sunny's gone? Already?"

"Kyle thought it was cruel to make her suffer longer. She was... unhappy."

"We wanted to say goodbye," we murmured to ourselves. "And good luck. How is Jodi?"

"No response yet."

"The Healer's body?"

"Trudy took her away. I think they went to get her something to eat. They're working on finding a temporary name she likes, so we can call her something besides the body." He smiled wryly.

"She'll be fine," we said, trying to believe the words. "And Jodi, too. It will all work out."

No one called us on our lies. They knew we were saying this for ourselves.

Doc sighed. "I don't want to be away from Jodi long. She might need something."

"Right," we agreed. "Let's get this over with." The quicker the better. Because it didn't matter what was said here; Doc had agreed to my terms. And yet there was some stupid part of us that hoped... hoped that there was a solution that would make everything perfect and let us stay with Ian and Jared and our family in a way that absolutely no one would suffer for. Best to crush that impossible hope quickly.

"Okay," Jeb said. "Wanda, what's your side?"

"I'm giving Melanie back." Firm, short—no reasons to argue against.

"Ian, what's yours?"

"We need Wanda here." Firm, short—he was copying me.

“Mel?”

I tried to keep our pursed lips closed, but Mel went past me easily.

“This group needs us,” she said, voice low. “At the very least, there’s no reason not to wait a bit more.”

Jared’s gaze snapped to us, surprised.

Jeb nodded to himself. "Right. Wanda, why should I agree with you?"

"If it were you, you'd want your body back. You can't deny Melanie that."

"Ian?" Jeb asked.

"We have to look at the greater good, Jeb. Wanda's already brought us more health and security than we've ever had. She's vital to the survival of our community—of the entire human race. One person can't stand in the way of that."

_He's right._

_Nobody asked you._

Jared spoke up. "Mel?"

We felt dizzy and tried not to sway where we stood. It was hard to accommodate for everything in us. I didn’t want Mel to speak. Mel didn’t want this to be happening. We were almost swallowed by ourselves, trying to parse through our own thoughts.

People waited patiently, used, by now, to our strange silences.

“I want to be myself,” Mel whispered, eyes closing shut, as if it hurt to say it. “We don’t want to… to disappear, either of us. But I don’t want Wanderer gone. Mel will be able to help you,” I added, trying to get this under control. “And the Healer's host. She knows more than we ever did. You'll be fine. You were fine before I was here. You'll survive, just like before, and Mel will stay. She’s—she’s the best parts of us, anyway."

 _I’m not_ , Mel said, touched.

Jeb blew out a puff of air, frowning. "I don't know, Wanda. Mel’s a bit confused there, but Ian at least has got a point."

We glared at the old man and saw that Jared was doing the same. We looked away from that standoff to level a grim glance at Doc. Doc met our eyes, and his face clenched with pain. He understood the reminder we were giving him. He'd promised. This tribunal didn't overrule that.

This tribunal didn’t matter.

Ian was watching Jared—he didn't see our silent exchange.

"Jeb," Jared protested. "There's only one decision here. You know that."

"Is there, kid? Seems to me there's a whole barrel of 'em."

"That's Melanie's body! And she just said she doesn’t want to disappear."

"And that she doesn’t want Wanda gone."

Jared choked on his response and had to start over. "You can't leave Mel trapped in there—it's like murder, Jeb."

“She’s not trapped, boy. My niece’s right there. Seems to me the problem is different—what’s this _disappear_ business?”

All four pairs of eyes turned to us. We resisted the urge to cringe.

“Mel and Wanderer are,” we started, then paused to try and find the right word. “Eroding. Into each other. It’s… it’s harder and harder to separate ourselves from each other. To truly understand that… that Jeb is Mel’s uncle, not Wanderer’s, and that Wanderer was Lives in the Stars, not Mel… We’re going to disappear, eventually, and become—this. Whoever we are.”

“We can work it out,” Ian said firmly.

“You’re okay with Mel _disappearing_ because you want Wanda to stay,” Jared accused.

Ian leaned forward into the light, his face suddenly furious again. "And you’re okay with Wanda being gone because you want Melanie to stay! What happens to the rest of us, if you get your selfish wish?"

"You don't care about the rest of us!"

"Right, so it comes down to what's _best_ for everyone else."

"No! It comes down to what Melanie wants! That's her body!"

They were both crouched halfway between sitting and standing now, their fists clenched and their faces twisted with rage.

"Cool it, boys! Cool it right now," Jeb ordered. "This is a tribunal, and we're going to stay calm and keep our heads. We've got to think about every side."

"Jeb—" Jared began.

"Shut up." Jeb chewed on his lip for a while. "Okay, here's how I see it. Wanda's right—"

Ian lurched to his feet.

"Hold it! Sit yourself back down. Let me finish."

Jeb waited until Ian, the tendons standing out in his taut neck, stiffly returned to a seated position.

"Wanda is right," Jeb said. "Mel needs her body back. Whatever’s happening to these two isn’t fun. But," he added quickly when Ian tensed again, "but I don't agree with the rest, Wanda. I think we need you pretty bad, kid. We got Seekers out there lookin' for us, and Mel may be able to talk to them, but she won’t have those pretty rings in her eyes anymore. _You_ save lives. I got to think about the welfare of my household."

Jared spoke through his teeth. "So we get her another body. Obviously."

Doc's crumpled face lifted. Jeb's white caterpillar eyebrows touched his hairline. Ian's eyes widened and his lips pursed. He stared at us, considering...

"No! No!" We shook our head frantically. The thought of being wrenched apart only for me to be stuck in the same situation again in _another_ body, with someone who _wasn’t_ Mel, was unbearable.

"Why not, Wanda?" Jeb asked. "Don't sound like a half-bad idea to me."

We swallowed and took a deep breath so our voice wouldn't turn hysterical. "Uncle Jeb. Listen to me carefully, Jeb. I am not going to go through this again. Do you think I want to rehash this situation with someone who isn’t Mel? Do I have to be guilty of at least a half-murder forever? I love you all. I love this world. But I am not supposed to be here. I can’t."

We took another breath and spoke through the tears that were falling now. "And what if things change? What if you put me in someone else, steal another life, and it goes wrong? What if that body pulls me after some other love, back to the souls? What if you can't trust me anymore? What if I betray you next time? I don't want to hurt you."

The first part was the pure and unadorned truth, but the second was pure horseshit. Mel wanted to cry, to shout, to say anything, but she knew it wouldn’t matter—she recoiled from the thought of me in another body just as I did.

I would never hurt them. What had happened to us here was permanent, a part of the very atoms that made up my small body. But maybe, if I gave them a reason to fear me, they would more easily accept what had to be.

We remembered our ring of loving friends outside Jamie’s room, the masks of suspiciousness. We knew even those who loved us didn’t take too big of a push to stand against us.

And the lies worked. We caught the worried glance Jared and Jeb exchanged. They hadn't thought of that—of my becoming untrustworthy, becoming a danger. Ian was already moving to put his arms around us. He dried our tears with his shirt.

"It's okay. You don't have to be anyone else. Nothing's going to change."

"Hold on, Wanda," Jeb said, his shrewd eyes suddenly sharper. "How does going to one of those other planets help you? You'll still be a parasite, kid."

Ian flinched around us at the harsh word.

And we flinched also, because Jeb was too insightful, as always.

They waited for our answer, all but Doc, who knew what the real answer was. The one we wouldn't give.

I tried to say only true things. "It's different on other planets, Uncle Jeb. There isn't any resistance. And the hosts themselves are different. They aren't as individualized as humans, their emotions are so much milder. It doesn't feel like stealing a life. Not like it feels here. No one will hate me. And I'd be too far away to hurt you. You'd be safer..."

The last part sounded too much like the lie it was, so I let our voice trail off.

Jeb stared at me through narrowed eyes, and I looked away.

We tried not to look at Doc, but we couldn't help one brief glance, to make sure he understood. His eyes locked on ours, clearly miserable, and we knew that he did.

As we quickly lowered our gaze, we caught Jared staring at Doc. Had he seen the silent communication?

Jeb sighed. "This is... a pickle." His face turned into a grimace as he concentrated on the dilemma.

"Jeb—" Ian and Jared said together. They both stopped and scowled at each other.

This was all just a waste of time, and we had only hours. Just a few more hours, we knew that for certain now. Under our skin, Mel thought and tried not to think, and I tried to let her have her privacy as much as we could have privacy between the two of us. I didn’t want to know, for once. Her thoughts were seeped in the cool grey of grief.

"Uncle Jeb," I said softly, our voice barely audible over the spring's gushing murmur, and everyone turned to us. "You don't have to decide right now. Doc needs to check on Jodi, and we'd like to see her, too. Plus, we haven't eaten all day. Why don't you sleep on it? We can talk again tomorrow. We've got plenty of time to think about this."

Lies. Could they tell?

"That's a good idea, girls. I think everyone here could use a breather. Go get some food, and we'll all sleep on it."

We were very careful not to look at Doc now, even when we spoke to him. I was too grateful for Mel’s acceptance to wonder why she wasn’t really putting up a fight anymore.

"We'll be along to help with Jodi after we eat, Doc. See you later."

"Okay," Doc said warily.

Why couldn't he keep his tone casual? He was a human—he should have been a good liar.

"Hungry?" Ian murmured, and we nodded. We let him help us up. He latched on to our hand, and we knew he would be keeping a tight hold on us now. That didn't worry us. He slept deeply, like Jamie.

As we walked from the dark room, we could feel eyes on our back, but we weren’t sure whose.

Just a few more things to do. Three, to be precise. Three last deeds to be completed.

First, we ate.

It wouldn't be nice to leave Mel with her body uncomfortable from hunger. Besides, the food was better since we'd been raiding. Something to look forward to rather than endure.

We made Ian get the food and bring it to us while we hid in the field where half-grown sprouts of wheat replaced the corn. We told Ian the truth so that he would help us: we were avoiding Jamie. We didn't want Jamie frightened by this decision. It would be harder for him than for Jared or Ian. Jamie loved us both in a very uncomplicated way; he would never forgive me this.

Ian did not argue with us. We ate in silence, his arm tight around our waist, our head on his shoulder.

Second, we went to see Sunny and Jodi.

We expected to see three glowing cryotanks on top of Doc's desk, and we were surprised that there were still just the two Healers, set in the center. Doc and Kyle hovered over the cot where Jodi lay inert. We walked quickly to them, about to demand to know where Sunny was, but when we got closer, we saw that Kyle had an occupied cryotank cradled in one arm.

We froze in alarm.

“I’m being gentle,” Kyle said, as if anticipating an accusation from us. “I won’t hurt her, alright? Stop looking at me like that.”

We breathed evenly, trying not to let panic crawl up our throat, and turned to Doc. We gave him a hard look, then back to Kyle, and Doc didn’t look at us. We wouldn’t be able to do a single thing for Sunny soon, anyway.

Doc was touching Jodi's wrist, counting to himself. His lips pressed into a thin line when he heard our voice, and he had to begin over again. Kyle’s gaze was fixed on Jodi's face. A dark, matched set of bruises was forming under his eyes. Was his nose broken again?

"I'm being careful,” he assured us again. “I just... didn't want to leave her alone over there. She was so sad and so... sweet."

He didn’t seem to mind that we wouldn’t answer him.

"Is there something I'm supposed to be doing here? Is there some way to help?"

"Talk to her,” we said quietly, because we hated Kyle, but not enough to not want to help Jodi. “Say her name, talk about things she'll remember. Talk about Sunny, even. That helped with the Healer's host."

"Mandy," Doc corrected. "She says it's not exactly right, but it's close."

"Mandy," we repeated. "Where is she?"

"With Trudy—that was a good call there. Trudy's exactly the right person. I think she's gotten her to sleep."

"That's good. Mandy will be okay."

"I hope so." Doc smiled, but it didn't affect his gloomy expression much. "I've got lots of questions for her."

We looked at the small woman. Her face was slack and vacant. It frightened us a little—she'd been so vibrantly alive when Sunny had been there.

We touched Jodi's arm softly. She was much like Lacey in some ways. Olive skinned and black haired and short. They could almost be sisters, except that Jodi's sweet, wan face could never look so repellent.

Kyle was tongue-tied, holding her hand.

"Like this," we said. We brushed her arm again. "Jodi? Jodi, can you hear us? Kyle's waiting for you, Jodi. He got himself in a lot of trouble getting you here—everybody who knows him wants to beat him senseless. Not that’s much different than the usual order of business." We grinned wryly at her, and Kyle’s lips curled up at the corners too.

"Not that you're surprised to hear that," Ian said beside us. "When hasn't that been the case, eh, Jodi? It's good to see you again, sweetheart. Though I wonder if you feel the same way. Must have been a nice break to get rid of this idiot for so long."

Kyle hadn't noticed his brother was there, attached like a vise to our hand, until Ian spoke.

"You remember Ian, of course. Never has managed to catch up to me in anything, but he keeps trying. Hey, Ian," Kyle added, never moving his eyes, "you got anything you want to say to me?"

"Not really."

"I'm waiting for an apology."

"Keep waiting."

"Can you believe he kicked me in the face, Jodes? For no reason at all."

"Who needs an excuse, eh, Jodi?"

We smiled. We didn’t know when Ian had kicked Kyle in the face, but a part of us was sorry to have missed it.

It was oddly pleasant, the banter between the brothers. Jodi's presence kept it light and teasing. Gentle and funny. We would have woken up for this. If we were her, we would have been smiling already.

We hated Kyle. But he was Ian’s brother, and we had saved him for Ian, and now they were together and they would be okay.

"Keep it up, Kyle," we murmured. "That's just right. She'll come around. Lacy and Mandy did, after all."

We wished we would get to meet her, to see what she was like. We could only picture Sunny's expressions.

What would it be like for everyone here, meeting Melanie for the first time? Melanie, not _Wanda_ , the lie we had told since the beginning, and not _us_ either. Would it seem the same to them, as if there were no difference? Would they really grasp that _I_ was gone, or would Melanie simply fill the role we had had?

Maybe they would find her entirely different. Maybe they would have to adjust to her all over again. Maybe she would fit in the way we never had. We pictured her the center of a crowd of friendly faces. Pictured us with Freedom in our arms and all the humans who had never trusted us smiling with welcome.

Why did that bring tears to our eyes? Was I really so petty?

 _No_ , Mel assured me. _And they'll miss you—of course they will. All the best people here will feel your loss_.

She seemed to finally accept my decision.

 _Not accept,_ she disagreed. _I just can't see any way to stop you. And I can feel how close it is. I'm scared, too. Isn't that funny? I'm fucking terrified._

_Yeah._

"Wanda?" Kyle said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"…Why?"

"For trying to kill you," he said casually. "Guess I was wrong."

Ian gasped. "Please tell me you have some kind of recording device available, Doc."

"Nope. Sorry, Ian."

Ian shook his head. "This moment should be preserved. I never thought I'd live to see the day that Kyle O'Shea would admit to being wrong. C'mon, Jodi. That ought to shock you awake."

"Jodi, baby, don't you want to defend me? Tell Ian I never have been wrong before." He chuckled.

“Kyle,” we said, nice and even, “ _fuck_ you. You’re a despicable person. The only reason we didn’t brain you with a rock was that Wanderer didn’t want to. Once she’s gone, I make no fucking promises.”

He laughed, sharp and bright, looking so much like his brother, like it as a joke. It wasn’t. Mel would have a lot of shit to go through once I was gone, and Kyle would be a _very_ convenient target.

There was no more we could do here. There was no point in lingering. Jodi would either come back or she would not, but neither outcome would change our path now.

So we proceeded to our third and final deed: we lied.

We stepped away from the cot, took a deep breath, and stretched our arms.

"We’re tired, Ian," we said.

Was it really a lie? It didn't sound so false. It had been a long, long day, this, our last day. We'd been up all night, we realized. We hadn't slept since that last raid; we must have been exhausted.

Ian nodded. "I'll bet you are. Did you stay up with the Heal—with Mandy all night?"

"Yeah." We yawned.

"Have a nice night, Doc," Ian said, pulling us toward the exit. "Good luck, Kyle. We'll be back in the morning."

"Night, Kyle," we murmured. "See you, Doc."

Doc glowered at us, but Ian's back was to him, and Kyle was staring at Jodi. We returned Doc's glare with a steady gaze.

Ian walked with us through the black tunnel, saying nothing. We were glad he wasn't in the mood for conversation. We wouldn't have been able to concentrate on it. Our stomach was twisting and turning, wringing itself into strange contortions.

We were done, all our tasks accomplished. We only had to wait a bit now and not fall asleep. Tired as we were, we didn't think that would be a problem. Our heart was pounding like a fist hitting our ribs from the inside.

No more stalling. It had to be tonight. What had happened today with Ian had shown us that. The longer I stayed, the more tears and arguments and fights we would cause. The better the chance that we or someone else would slip up and Jamie would find out the truth. Let Mel explain it after the fact. It would be better that way.

 _Thanks so much_ , Mel thought; her words flowed fast, in a burst, her fear marring her sarcasm.

_Sorry._

She sighed. _Don’t be. I'd do anything for you, Wanderer_.

_Take care of them._

_I would have done that anyway. I don’t know that Ian will let me_ , she mused. _I've got a feeling he might not like me so much._

_Don’t be stupid._

Ian paused in the hall outside the red and gray doors to his room. He raised his eyebrows, and we nodded. Let him think we were still hiding from Jamie. That was true, too.

Ian slid the red door aside, and we went straight to the mattress on the right. We balled up there, knotting our shaking hands in front of our hammering heart, trying to hide them behind our knees.

Ian curled around us, holding us close to his chest. This would have been fine—we knew that he would end up sprawled out in all directions when he was really asleep—except that he could feel our trembling.

"It's going to be fine. I know we'll find a solution."

"We truly love you, Ian." It was the only way we could tell him goodbye. The only way he would accept. We knew he would remember later and understand. "With our whole selves, we love you."

"I love you, too. You know that."

He nosed at our cheek then kissed us, slow and gentle, the flow of molten rock swelling languidly in the dark at the center of the earth, until our shaking slowed. We had our hands buried in his hair, his body against ours like a puzzle piece.

"Sleep,” he murmured against our lips. “Save it for tomorrow. It will keep for the night."

We nodded, moving our face against his, and sighed.

Ian was tired, too. We didn't have to wait long. We stared at the ceiling—the stars had moved above the cracks here. We could see three of them now, where before there had been only two. We watched them wink and pulse across the blackness of space. They did not call to us. We had no desire to join them.

One at a time, Ian's arms fell away from us. He flopped onto his back, muttering in his sleep. We didn't dare wait any longer; we wanted too badly to stay, to fall asleep with him and steal one more day.

We moved cautiously, but he was in no danger of waking. His breathing was heavy and even. He wouldn't open his eyes till morning.

 _Thank you_ , I said, quiet and heartfelt. _For not fighting me anymore. I don’t think I could bear it._

 _I’d do anything for you, Wanderer,_ Mel repeated, just as quiet.

We rose and slid out the door.

It was not late, and the caves were not empty. We could hear voices bouncing around, strange echoes that might have been coming from anywhere. We didn't see anyone until we were in the big cave. Geoffrey, Heath, and Lily were on their way back from the kitchen. We kept our eyes down, though we were very glad to see Lily. In the brief glimpse we allowed ourselves, we could see that she was at least standing upright, her shoulders straight. Lily was tough. Like Mel. She'd make it, too.

We hurried to the southern corridor, relieved when we were safe in the blackness there. Relieved and horrified. It was really over now.

 _I'm afraid_ , I whispered.

Before Mel could respond, a heavy hand dropped on our shoulder from the darkness.

"Going somewhere?"


	30. chapter 58: FINISHED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, we're so close. Too close... it's hard to think about saying good-bye like this. But still--I loved writing this. I hope you'll like it too! And I'd love to hear your feelings on it. Hope everyone's staying safe.

We were so tightly wound that we shrieked in terror; we were so terrified that our shriek was only a breathless squeal.

"Sorry!" Jared's arm went around our shoulders, comforting, and we winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"What are you doing here?" we demanded, still breathless.

"Following you. I've been following you all night."

"Well, stop it now."

There was a hesitation in the dark, and his arm didn't move. We shrugged out from under it, but he caught our wrist. His grip was firm; we wouldn't be able to shake free easily. We sighed.

"You're going to see Doc?" he asked, and there was no confusion in the question. It was obvious that he wasn't talking about a social visit.

"Of course we are.” I hissed the words so that he wouldn't hear the panic in our voice. "What else can we do after today? It's not going to get any better. And this isn't Jeb's decision to make."

"I know. I'm on your side."

It made us angry that these words still had the power to hurt us, to bring tears stinging into our eyes. We tried to hold on to the thought of Ian, but it was hard with Jared's hand touching us, with the smell of him in our nose. Like trying to make out the song of one violin when the entire percussion section was bashing away. We loved him too much, too.

"Then let us go, Jared. Go away. We want to be alone." The words came out fierce and fast and hard. It was easy to hear that they weren't lies.

"I should come with you."

"You'll have Melanie back soon enough," I snapped. "I'm only asking for a few minutes, Jared. Give me that much."

Another pause; his hand didn't loosen.

"Wanda, I would come to be with you."

The tears spilled over. We were grateful for the darkness. It was easy, then and there, to believe him.

"It wouldn't feel that way," I whispered. "So there's no point."

Of course Jared could not be allowed to be there. Only Doc could be trusted. Only he had promised us. And I wasn't leaving this planet. I wasn't going to go live as a Dolphin or a Flower, always grieving for the loves I'd left behind me, all dead by the time I opened new eyes again—if I even had eyes. This was our planet, and they wouldn't make me leave. I would stay in the dirt, in the dark grotto with my friends. My human grave.

"But Wanda, I... There's so much that I need to say to you."

"I don't want your gratitude, Jared. I really don’t."

"What do you want?" he whispered, his voice strained and choked. "I would give you anything."

We wanted him not to say things like that, now, after everything, after it didn’t matter anymore.

"Take care of our family,” we whispered. “Don't let the others kill them."

"Of course I'll take care of them." He dismissed our request brusquely. "I meant you. What can I give _you?_ "

"I can't take anything with me, Jared."

"Not even a memory, Wanda? What do you want?"

We brushed the tears away with our free hand, but others took their place too quickly for it to matter. No, I couldn't take even a memory.

"What can I give you, Wanda?" he insisted.

We took a deep breath and tried to keep our voice steady. We looked evenly at him—I looked. Me.

"Give me a lie, Jared,” I asked. “Tell me you want me to stay."

There was no hesitation this time. He surged forward and held us to his chest, feeling the warmth of him and the heart beating wildly so close to ours. He pressed his lips against our forehead and we felt his breath move our hair when he spoke.

"Stay here, Wanderer. With us. With me. I don't want you to go. Please. I can't imagine having you gone. I can't see that. I don't know how to... how to..." His voice broke.

He was a very good liar. And he must have been very, very sure of me to say those things.

We rested against him for a moment, our chin over his shoulder, but we could feel the time pulling us away. Time was up. Time was up.

"Thank you," I whispered, and we tried to extricate ourselves.

His arms tightened. "I'm not done."

He cradled our face with a hand and kissed us. Even here, on the edge of my last breath on this planet, we couldn't help responding. Gasoline and open flame—we exploded again.

It wasn't the same, though. We could feel that. This wasn’t for Mel. It was my name that he gasped when he held this body—and he thought of it as my body, thought of it as me, as strange as that felt. We could feel the difference. For one moment, all that mattered was that Jared wanted me to stay, and he said it with his lips; both of us burning.

No one had ever lied better than Jared lied with his body in those last minutes, and for that we were grateful. I couldn't take it with me, because I wasn't going anywhere, but it eased some of the pain of leaving. I could believe the lie. I could believe that he would miss me—us—so much that it might even mar some of his joy. I shouldn't want that, but it felt good to believe it anyway.

We couldn't ignore the time, the seconds ticking like a countdown. Even on fire, we could feel them dragging at us, sucking us down the dark corridor. Taking us away from all this heat and feeling.

I managed to pull our lips away from his. We panted in the dark, our breath warm on each other's faces.

"Thank you," I said again.

"Wait..."

"We can't. We can't... bear any more. Okay?"

"Okay," he whispered.

"We just want one more thing. Let us do this alone. Please?"

"If... if you're sure that's what you want..." He trailed off, unsure.

"It's what we need, Jared."

"Then I'll stay here," he said hoarsely.

"We'll send Doc to get you when it's over."

His arms were still locked around us.

"You know that Ian is going to try to kill me for letting you do this? Maybe I should let him. And Jamie. He'll never forgive either of us."

"Shut up," we said, tired.

Slowly, with a palpable reluctance that warmed some of the cold emptiness in the center of our body, Jared let his arms slide away.

"I love you, Wanderer."

I sighed. "Thanks, Jared. You know how much I love you. With my whole heart."

Heart and soul. Not the same thing, in my case. I'd been divided too long. It was time to make something whole again.

The ticking seconds pulled us toward the end. It was cold when he no longer held us. It got colder every step we took away from him.

Just our imagination, of course. It was still summer here. It would always be summer here for us.

"What happens here when it rains, Jared?" we whispered. "Where do people sleep?"

It took him a moment to answer, and we could hear tears in his voice. "We..." He swallowed. "We all move into the game room. Everyone sleeps in there together."

We nodded to ourselves. We wondered what the atmosphere would be like. Awkward, with all the conflicting personalities? Or was it fun? A change? Like a slumber party?

"Why?" he whispered.

"I just wanted to... imagine. How it will be." Life and love would go on. Even though it would happen without me, the idea brought me joy. "Goodbye, Jared. You’ll see Mel soon."

"Wait. Wanda..."

We hurried down the tunnel, hurried away from any chance that he might, with his grateful lies, convince us not to go. There was only silence behind us.

His pain did not hurt us the way Ian's had. For Jared, pain would be over soon. Joy was only minutes away. The happy ending.

The southern tunnel felt only a few yards long. We could see the bright lantern burning ahead, and we knew Doc was waiting for us.

We walked into the room that had always frightened us with our shoulders squared. Doc had everything prepared. In the dimmest corner, we could see two cots pushed together, Kyle snoring with his arm around Jodi's motionless form. His other arm was still curled around Sunny's tank. She would have liked that. That helped us deal with our own fear of it.

"Hey, Doc," we whispered.

He looked up from the table where he was setting out the medicine. There were already tears streaming down his face.

And suddenly, we were brave. Our heart slowed to an even pace. Our breath deepened and relaxed. The hardest parts were over.

We had done this before, as Wanderer. Many times. We had closed our eyes and gone away. Always knowing new eyes would open again, but still. This was familiar. Nothing to fear. It was Doc, and his scalpels, and this table, but it was us, too.

We went to the cot and hopped up so that we were sitting on it. We reached for the No Pain with steady hands and screwed the lid off. We put the little tissue square on our tongue, let it dissolve.

There was no change. We weren’t in any pain this time. No physical pain.

"Tell us something, Doc. What's your real name?"

We wanted to answer all the little puzzles before the end.

Doc sniffed and wiped the back of his hand under his eyes.

"Eustace. It's a family name, and my parents were cruel people."

We laughed once. Then we sighed. "Jared's waiting, back by the big cave. We promised him you'd tell him when it was over. Just wait until we—until she... stops moving, okay? It will be too late for him to do anything about our decision then."

"I don't want to do this, Wanda."

"We know. Thanks for that, Doc. But we’re holding you to your promise."

"Please?"

"No. You gave us your word. We did our part, didn't we?"

"You did."

"Then do yours. Let Wanderer stay with Walt and Wes."

His thin face worked as he tried to keep back a sob.

"Will you be... in pain?"

"No, Doc," we lied. "Wanda won't feel anything."

We waited for the euphoria to come, for the No Pain to set everything glowing the way it had the last time. We still didn't feel any difference. It must not have been the No Pain after all. It had all just been being loved. We sighed again.

We stretched out on the cot, on our stomach, and turned our face toward him.

"Put us under, Doc."

The bottle opened. We heard him shake it onto the cloth in his hand.

"You are the noblest, purest creature I've ever met. The universe will be a darker place without you," he whispered.

These were his words over Wanderer’s grave, an epitaph, and we were glad that we got to hear them. They were our epitaph too.

 _I will not forgive you,_ Mel whispered, pressing her fingertips against my lips in the only kiss we could have, _and I will love you until my very last day._

_Be happy, Mel._

_I will,_ she promised.

 _Bye_ , we thought.

Doc's hand pressed the cloth gently over our face. We breathed in deeply, ignoring the thick, uncomfortable scent. As we took another breath, we saw the three stars again.

They were not calling to us; they were letting us go, leaving us to the black universe we had wandered for so many lifetimes. We drifted into the black, and it got brighter and brighter. It wasn't black at all, but a warm, loving blue. We floated into it with no fear at all.

And we were gone.


	31. chapter 59: REMEMBERED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaa, what a chapter. Any thoughts, questions, critics? Drop a comment! They always make my day. And this chapter is very important, I had lots of people telling me they were looking forward to it--let me know if you liked it or not!
> 
> I've already got a smaaaaall ficlet for this universe written. Yes, I will continue writing for this universe!   
> I hope everyone is okay and staying safe.

The beginning would feel like the end. I'd been warned.

But this time the end was a greater surprise than it had ever been. Greater than any end I'd remembered in nine lives. Greater than jumping down an elevator shaft. I had expected no more memories, no more thoughts. What end was this?

_The sun is setting—the colors are all rosy, and they make me think of my friend... what would her name be here? Something about... ruffles? Ruffles and more ruffles. She was a beautiful Flower. The flowers here are so lifeless and boring. They smell wonderful, though. Smells are the best part of this place._

_Footsteps behind me. Has Cloud Spinner followed me again? I don't need a jacket. It's warm here—finally!—and I want to feel the air on my skin. I won't look at her. Maybe she'll think I can't hear and she'll go home. She is so careful with me, but I'm an adult. She can't mother me forever._

_"Excuse me?" someone says, and I don't know the voice._

_I turn to look at her, and I don't know the face, either. She's pretty._

_She’s—_ I was suddenly jerked back to myself. That was _my_ face. That was _me_ —us—but I didn’t remember…

There was no us. I was awfully, terribly, monstrously _alone._

_"Hi," I say._

_"Hello. My name is Melanie." She smiles at me._ She should always be smiling. I want her to smile always. I want her to be happy. _"I'm new in town and... I think I'm lost."_

_"Oh! Where are you trying to go? I'll take you. Our car is just back—"_

_"No, it's not far. I was going for a walk, but now I can't find my way back to Becker Street."_

_She's a new neighbor—how nice. I love new friends._

_"You're very close," I tell her. "It's just around the second corner up that way, but you can cut right through this little alley here. It takes you straight there."_

_"Could you show me? I'm sorry, what's your name?"_

_"Of course! Come with me. I'm Petals Open to the Moon, but my family mostly calls me Pet. Where are you from, Melanie?"_

_She laughs. "Do you mean San Diego or the Singing World, Pet?"_

_"Either one." I laugh, too. "There are two Bats on this street. They live in that yellow house with the pine trees."_

_"I'll have to say hello," she murmurs, but her voice has changed, tensed. She's looking into the dusky alley as though she's expecting to see something._

_And there is something there. Two people, a man and a boy. The boy drags his hand through his long black hair like he's nervous. Maybe he is worried because he's lost, too. His pretty eyes are wide and excited. The man is very still._

_Jamie. Jared._ My heart thumped, but the feeling was peculiar, wrong. Small and fluttery like a bird’s wings.

_"These are my friends, Pet," Melanie tells me._

_"Oh! Oh, hello." I stretch my hand out to the man—he's the closest._

_He reaches for my hand, and his grip is so strong._

_He yanks me forward, right up to his body. I don't understand. This feels wrong. I don't like it._

_My heart beats faster, and I'm afraid. I've never been scared like this before. I don't understand._

_His hand swings toward my face, and I gasp. I suck in the mist that comes from his hand. A silver cloud that tastes like raspberries._

_"Wha—" I want to ask, but I can't see them anymore. I can't see anything..._

There was no more.

"Wanda? Can you hear me?" a familiar voice asked.

That wasn't the right name... was it? My ears didn't react to it, but something did. Wasn't I Petals Open to the Moon? Pet? Was that it? That didn't feel right, either. My heart beat faster, an echo of the fear in my memory. A vision of a woman with white-and-blond-streaked hair and kind green eyes filled my head. Where was my mother?

But... she wasn't my mother, was she?

A sound, a low voice that echoed around me. "Wanderer. Come back. I’m not letting you go."

The voice was familiar, and it was also not. It sounded like... me?

Where was Petals Open to the Moon? I couldn't find her. Just a thousand empty memories. A house full of pictures but no inhabitants. I couldn’t find anything. I couldn’t find anyone, any of the anyones that I felt should be here, and terror gripped me and froze the breath in my throat. It was _silent_. It was—unbearable. I couldn’t—

"Use the Awake," a voice said. I didn't recognize this one.

Something brushed my face, light as the touch of fog. I knew that scent. It was the smell of grapefruit.

I took a deeper breath, and my mind suddenly cleared.

I could feel that I was lying down... but this felt wrong, too. There wasn't... enough of me. I felt shrunken. I was—small. In so many ways. Why couldn’t I find anyone? Why couldn’t I find her? My… my own? The rest of myself?

My hands were warmer than the rest of me, and that was because they were being held.

It smelled odd—stuffy and a little moldy. I remembered the smell... but surely I'd never smelled it before in my life.

I saw nothing but dull red—the insides of my eyelids. I wanted to open them, so I went searching for the right muscles to do that. That was familiar, not to anybody else but to _me_. To lay and try to connect properly to a host. My heart calmed slowly.

"Wanda? We're all waiting for you. Open your eyes."

This voice, this warm breath against my ear, was warm and beckoning, with a tinge of fear under it. I didn’t want him to be afraid. I was so tired of fear.

“Wanderer,” that voice came again. _Me_.

No, not me. Us. _Her._

That was my name. Yes, that was right. Wanderer. I was Wanderer. I remembered that now.

A light touch on my face, a warm pressure on my lips, on my eyelids. Ah, that's where they were. I could make them blink now that I'd found them.

"She's waking up!" someone crowed excitedly.

Jamie. Jamie was here. My heart beat faster. My Jamie.

It took a moment for my eyes to focus. The others were too impatient to wait much.

A hand touched my face. "Wanderer?"

I looked to the sound. The movement of my head on my neck felt so odd. It didn't feel like it used to, but at the same time it felt the way it had always felt.

My searching eyes found what they were looking for.

“Mel,” I whispered, and the voice that left me was strange—familiar, but not mine. I didn’t pay it any mind. I couldn’t move my hands yet, but I could feel Mel squeezing the one she was holding. She was holding my hand. My eyes filled with tears.

She was sitting by my side, looking down at me with her warm, firm hazel eyes. Her dark brown hair was a curtain around her face, the top parts bound back. She was beautiful. She was so close to me. She was okay, unsmiling but with a soft expression, expectant.

“ _Mel,_ ” I cried, finally squeezing her hand back. “Where are you? I’m so _alone._ ”

“I’m here,” she whispered, touching soft fingertips to my cheeks again. “It’s fine, we’re fine. We’ll be fine. I’m right here.”

“Wanda?” another voice, quiet and filled with stifled joy, asked for me.

I glanced to the side—then firmed my eyes on him. My heart thumped a hard beat, relief cursing through my veins.

"Ian? Ian, where am I?" I asked, trying to reach for him. But he was already holding my other hand, and he just clasped it tighter. "Who am I?"

"You're you," Ian told me. "And you're right where you belong."

I pulled my hand free of his. I meant to touch my face, but someone's hand reached toward me, and I froze.

The reaching hand also froze above me.

I tried to move my hand again, to protect myself, but that moved the hand above me. I started shaking, and the hand trembled.

Oh.

I opened and closed the hand, looking at it carefully.

Was this my hand, this small thing? It was pale and smooth, creamy white with little brown freckles, small and— _dainty._ It brought an image to me: I could see a face in my head, reflected in a mirror.

A pretty dresser sat before me, filled with all kinds of delicate things on top of it. A profusion of lovely glass bottles containing perfume, the different little scents I loved—I loved? Or she loved? A potted orchid. A set of silver combs.

The big round mirror was framed in a wreath of metal roses. The face in the mirror was round-ish, too, not quite oval. The skin was fair—unburnt, untouched—and unlike the hand, which had sported a few freckles, it was entirely covered by them. The left side had more freckles than the right, but all of the face was _covered_ in them. Even the lips. I remembered then: my mother fussing with sunscreen, telling me of the dangers of not protecting all those freckles from UV rays.

The eyes were brown, and the silver of a soul shimmered faintly behind the soft color, framed by golden lashes.

There was a dimple on the chin. And around the head, golden curls framed that face, curling sweetly around it like a halo.

My face or her face?

It was the perfect face for a Night Flower. Petals Opened to the Moon.

"Where is she?" I asked, eyes hazy. "Where is Pet?" The absence was frightening. I'd never seen a more defenseless creature than this sunlight-haired fairy.

"She's right here," Doc assured me. "Tanked and ready to go. We thought you could tell us the best place to send her."

I looked toward his voice. When I saw him standing in the sunlight, a lit cryotank in his hands, a rush of memories from my former life came back to me.

"Doc!” Betrayal warped my voice, making it wet with unshed tears. “Doc, you promised! You gave me your oath, Eustace! Why did you break your word?"

A dim recollection of misery and pain touched me. This body had never felt such agony before. It shied away from the sting. Mel squeezed my hand again, leaning further over me as if to hide me away from whatever had made me cringe.

"Even an honest man sometimes caves to duress, Wanda."

"Duress," another terribly familiar voice scoffed.

"I'd say a knife to the throat counts as duress, Jared."

 _Jared._ My heart skipped a beat at the name.

"You knew I wouldn't really use it."

"That I did not. You were quite persuasive. And even if you weren’t—even if he weren’t, Wanda, Mel woke up screaming and had you in a cryotank before I could even say the word _cryotank._ "

"A knife?" I asked faintly.

“Jared was being his overdramatic self,” Mel said dryly. She was curled so close to me that she was blocking my vision of anyone but her and Ian, who was close by my other side, and Doc, who was standing just over her shoulder.

Not blocking my vision. Blocking their vision of me.

I let go of her hand and a line appeared between her brows, but it smoothed when I cupped her cheek with a hand. Her skin was smooth, even on the scarred side. My heart twisted again. This body was smooth and perfect, but Mel would never be rid of what had been done to us.

She leaned against my touch with a sigh, eyes lowering.

“Overprotective,” I murmured.

“Maybe,” she allowed, lips quirking slightly, lowering until our foreheads were touching. “Don’t mind me. I’ve just spent days having to deal with the very real possibility that you were going to off yourself, Wanderer. There are some lingering effects.”

“Like,” I said, “not wanting Jared to see me?”

Her top lip quirked up slightly. Distaste, I thought. Or anger. Or chagrin? I was used to feeling the intricacies of her moods myself. I knew her inside out, upside down, better than I knew myself, but I couldn’t quite read her face.

Her face. Mel’s face. The body was her again.

I would get to kiss her after all.

The thought was like a clear bell ringing, like a deep breath of cold air, like eyes opening to morning sunlight. I was here after all, with her, and I would get to kiss her. The surety was an echo of the surety we had felt with Ian, that bone-deep certainty that we belonged with each other—but we had had to give him up, and Mel would be mine forever. As I would be hers.

I swiped a thumb across her cheek, reveling at the fact that I could.

“I do not have fond memories of,” Mel started, then stopped, straightening up slightly so we wouldn’t get cross-eyed looking at each other. “I was going to say _Jared_ , but actually, I don’t have fond memories of _anyone_ in here when it comes to you.”

“Hey,” Ian protested.

“Tried to choke us to death,” Mel said.

Ian winced and grew quiet.

“I brought her back!” Jared protested.

“But you did so much bullshit before that, Jared.”

“I haven’t done anythin’,” Jeb said, smug.

“Kept us in that _hole._ ”

“Hey, that was early on. You can’t fault me for that.”

“I am fucking faulting you, Uncle Jeb.”

My tears were making it hard for me to see. I wanted to see her properly, but I didn’t want to lean away from her. My heart felt like it was about to burst, but also breaking in a million pieces. It was inconsolable that I was standing so close to her and so _apart_ , that my thoughts were echoing in my mind with no answer, that I was a singular, unplural being again. That had been the point, but—

“I told you I didn’t want to be a parasite,” I whispered.

“Whatever,” Mel said, dismissive. She straightened up further, dislodging my hold on her. We winced at the same time, hands immediately finding each other again. “You just said you were alone in there. If you’re not, we’ll search until we find an empty body for you. We’ll get a _newborn_ if we have to. But it’s not like we just grabbed the first body we saw, you know? We’re not stupid.”

"Let me tell her, let me!" Jamie shoved in beside Mel, a wide grin on his face. It was getting very crowded around the cot. It rocked, unstable. He placed his hand above mine and Mel’s and squeezed.

"Jamie!" I said, face splitting into a wide grin.

"Hey, Wanda! This is cool, isn't it? You're tiny now!" He grinned, triumphant.

“She’s taller than you,” Mel said.

“By an inch. Which is basically nothing, compared to _you_ , Mel, and could be said to actually not even _count_ , so—”

“I’m still older,” I said, smiling up at him. It dimmed as I thought. “I’m… she was—twenty-four?”

Mel’s face soured. “Three years older than me. No way you’re older. Human-wise, you’re, like, a year old.”

Jamie patted my face, calling my attention back. He felt warm on my chilled skin. "They let me come on the raid to get you."

"I know," I muttered. "I remember... Well, Pet remembers seeing you there." I glared at Mel, who shrugged.

"We tried not to scare her," Jamie said. "She's so... kind of fragile-looking, you know? And nice, too. We picked her out together, but I got to decide! See, Mel said we had to get someone young—someone who had a bigger percentage of life as a soul or something. But not too young, we weren’t going to make you a _teenager_. And then Jared liked this face, because he said no one could ever be suspicious of it. You don't look dangerous at all. You look the opposite of dangerous. Jared said anyone who sees you would just naturally want to protect you, right, Jared? But then I got the final say, because I was looking for someone who looked like you. And I thought this looked like you. Because she sort of looks like an angel, and you're good like that. And real pretty. I knew you would be pretty." Jamie smiled hugely. "Ian didn't come. He just sat here with you—he said he didn't care what you looked like. He and Mel took turns sleeping with your cryotank like the huge weirdos they are. And Doc let me watch this time. It was way cool, Wanda. I don't know why you wouldn't let me watch before. They wouldn't let me help, though…."

Ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper in my ear. His voice was so low that I was the only one who could hear. "I held you in my hand. And you were so beautiful."

I teared up, remembering words that were said what felt like eons ago: _If you could hold me in your hand, me, you would be disgusted. You would throw me to the ground and grind me under your foot._

But Ian thought I was beautiful.

"You like it, don't you?" Jamie asked, his voice worried now. "You're not mad? There's nobody in there with you, is there?"

"I’m… not mad," I whispered. "I—I can't find anybody else. Just Pet's memories. Pet's been in here since... I can't remember when she wasn't here. I can't remember any other name. I just—I’m so alone. It’s—I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting…"

"You're not a parasite," Melanie said firmly, touching my hair, pulling up a strand and letting the gold slide between her fingers. "This body didn't belong to Pet, but there's nobody else to claim it. We waited to make sure, Wanderer. We tried to wake her up almost as long as we tried with Jodi."

"Jodi? What happened to Jodi?" I asked. I struggled to get up, and Ian helped me up. I could see all the faces then.

Doc, no more tears in his eyes. Jeb, peeking around Doc, his expression satisfied and burning with curiosity at the same time. Next, a woman I didn't recognize for a second because her face was more animated than I'd ever seen it, and I hadn't seen it much anyway—Mandy, the former Healer. Closer to me, Jamie, with his bright, excited smile, and Melanie beside him, and Jared behind her, a hand on her shoulder. I knew that his hands would never feel right unless they were touching her body—our body—now. That he would keep her as close as he could forever, hating any inch that came between them.

The pain hit me with a fierce ache to the heart. I shuddered, unable not to. This heart had never been broken before, and it didn't understand this memory.

I still loved Jared.

Mel squeezed my hand again, calling my attention to her instead. She had a rueful twist in that mouth that used to be ours and I thought that maybe she understood. She didn’t seem angry, or jealous, or sad, not really. She had a firm, confident look on her face, like she knew we could get through this and we would. She had none of my hesitancy or my quietness now, I realized.

I continued quickly around the cluster of faces circling my bed, while Doc, after a pause, answered my question.

Trudy and Geoffrey, Heath, Paige and Andy. Brandt, even...

"Jodi didn't respond. We kept trying as long as we could."

Was Jodi gone, then? I wondered, my inexperienced heart throbbing. I was giving the poor frail thing such a rough awakening.

Heidi and Lily, Lily smiling a pained little smile—none the less sincere for the pain...

"We were able to keep her hydrated, but we had no way to feed her. We were worried about atrophy—her muscles, her brain..."

While my new heart ached harder than it had ever ached—ached for a woman I'd never known—my eyes continued around the circle and then froze.

Jodi, clinging to Kyle's side, stared back at me.

She smiled tentatively, and suddenly I recognized her.

"Sunlight Passing Through The Ice!"

"I got to stay, Wanderer," she said, not quite smug but almost. "Just like you." She glanced at Kyle's face—which was more stoic than I was used to seeing it, but which still made me cringe closer to Mel—and her voice turned sad. "I'm trying, though. I am looking for her. I will keep looking."

"Kyle had us put Sunny back when it looked like we would lose Jodi," Doc continued quietly.

I was shocked at the cruelty of that, and then was surprised at my shock. It was Kyle, after all. Of course he was a cruel man.

Ian was watching me with a strange combination of joy and nervousness. His eyes were still the blue I remembered. Our love.

"You okay in there?" he asked.

"I... I don't know," I said. "This feels very... weird. Every bit as weird as switching species. So much weirder than I would have thought. I don't know."

My heart fluttered again, looking into those eyes, and this… this was my love, plain and simple and simply my own. It didn’t echo or double down or build against something else. Ian would not love me like he had loved us. But this was all new to me, too. And I felt surety in Mel, and in Mel’s surety. We could figure out how to deal with all this.

Maybe we would all get to have each other. Maybe Ian had been right all along, in saying that we could work it all out.

"You don't mind staying here too much, do you, Wanda? Do you think that maybe you could tolerate it?" he asked. He looked… demure. Like he was trying to be quiet. Like he thought I would be angry, or annoyed, or different; like he wanted to give me space.

I grabbed his hand again and twined our fingers. He smiled at me, and I smiled back.

Jamie squeezed my arm. Melanie did too, shifting slightly so I was leaning against her body, her arm around my waist and her chin against my temple, and smiled when Jared patted my shoulder. Trudy patted my foot. Geoffrey, Heath, Heidi, Andy, Paige, Brandt, and even Lily were beaming at me. Kyle had shuffled closer, a grin spreading across his face. Sunny's smile was the smile of a coconspirator.

How much No Pain had Doc given me? Everything was glowing.

Ian brushed the cloud of golden hair back from my face and laid his hand on my cheek. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through my body. He was so close to me—and to Mel too, who was glued to my side.

I could feel a warm flush pinking my cheeks. My heart had never been broken before, but it had also never flown. I felt shy in the face of being handed everything I wanted so badly.

"I suppose I could do that," I whispered. "If it makes you happy."

"That's not good enough, actually," Ian disagreed. "It has to make you happy, too."

I smiled, wide enough to dimple.

“You ass,” I said quietly, and he beamed.

It did make me happy.

Happy and sad, elated and miserable, secure and afraid, loved and denied, patient and angry, peaceful and wild, complete and empty... all of it. I would feel everything. It would all be mine.

Ian smiled back.

"Then you will stay."

He kissed me, just a chaste touch of lips, like he couldn’t bear not to. This was easy—so much easier than everything had been for a _year_ now, no division, no confusion, no objection, just Ian and me. He grinned and touched his forehead to mine just for a second, then looked up to crinkle his eyes, loving, at Mel.

I settled further against her with a sigh. I was less brave without Mel, but I didn’t need to be when she was here for me.

"I will stay," I agreed.

And my tenth life began.


	32. epilogue CONTINUED.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. What a journey. And here we are at the end. I hope you've enjoyed it, and that you will enjoy this chapter. I had people telling me they were looking forward to seeing what I did with the end of this story--I hope this meets your expectations! I, for one, really enjoyed writing this. It was really cathartic. I'd never gone and rewrote a story like this, and it's a very nice exercise. It also really made me realize how many things I think are wrong with this story and never really realized. I think I managed to write the book I had wanted to read back when this launched, and I'm happy with that.  
> I want to thank my sister for reading this first and for being my number one cheerleader! Neechan, if you're for some reason reading this as I post instead of raiding my dropbox for the right file again (I did make some changes...very small): thanks. I love you. I did indeed write this for you, personally, to make your personal dreams come true.  
> I'm so happy to have you guys reading this with me. For a first time posting a fic, you and your amazing comments made this the best experience possible. Thank you.

I was not the same. Of course. No one was ever the same at all times; always changing.

This was my first rebirth into a body of the same species. The transfer was difficult, since I already had so many expectations about being human, and Pet was so _different_ than Mel. I inherited a lot of things from her, and not all of them were pleasant.

I grieved for Cloud Spinner. I missed the mother I'd never known and mourned for her suffering now. It was a dull pain compared to the agony that had been me and Mel longing for Jared and Jamie, because Pet wasn’t here like Mel had been, but it hurt even so. A part of me, wounded and sad, wanted to sob that I should go after my mother like I had gone after my brother. But I couldn’t, of course. She wasn’t my mother, like Jamie wasn’t my brother.

As for the body, it was sedentary. It surprised me more than it should, being that I knew Pet’s memories and that she had never been the most active person. But I was used to a body that was strong and fast and tall—a body that could run for miles, go without food and water, lift heavy weights, and reach high shelves. It was _annoying_ to be so fragile. It would take a long time working on Jeb’s cantaloupes before I was strong again.

People treated me differently, too. They carried things for me now and let me pass first into a room. They gave me the easiest chores and then, half the time, tried took the work right out of my hands anyway. I tried not to let them—how would I grow strong if no one let me do anything?—but a lot of times I needed the help. I probably couldn't have run a mile without stopping, and the thought made me so sad I tried not to think of it.

Mel’s face had been beautiful, but sharp. She could inspire fear and hatred. But this body was soft, and alone I didn’t have a third of Mel’s ferocity or presence, and people who wouldn’t have hesitated to beat me before now mostly avoided my eyes.

Those first few days, our friends patted my head often, hugged me, and touched my hair. But again, without Mel, I was much more wary and afraid, and I couldn’t not cringe when people approached me. Mel started keeping a firm arm around my shoulders and glaring at anyone who came close, and I managed to develop a healthy bubble of personal space.

It was nice to be hugged by my friends, once I grew more comfortable. It was nice not to be feared.

Lucina put up only a token resistance when her children began following me. Freedom, in particular, frequently tried to crawl onto my lap. Isaiah was too big for that sort of thing, but he liked to hold my hand while chattering excitedly with me about Spiders and Dragons, soccer and raids.

They would still only come when I wasn’t with Melanie, and I wasn’t often without Melanie. Their mother had frightened them too thoroughly before for any reassurances to change things so quickly.

Even Maggie and Sharon, though they still tried not to look at me, could not maintain their former rigidity in my presence. Maybe—I hoped—the fact that I saved Mel would thaw their hearts a little.

The biggest change of all was, of course, the loneliness and terror that threatened to double me over sometimes. Back in the dark caves after the scene at the hospital, when I had tried to wrench Mel away from me, we had thought that trying to separate us would be as painful as trying to dig our fingers into our torso to tear out an organ—and our separation hadn’t hurt, really, not the surgical thing it had been, but the _living while separated_ …

I was walking around with half my lungs, half a heart, half my soul. It as a bleeding wound. I missed being with her, and I missed being her, and she did too.

Mel was a big change too. Without my thoughtlessness towards myself to soften her protectiveness, Mel became as thick and unmoving as a brick wall when it came to me. It became obvious immediately, on the very first day: it had been a day of chatting and eating and playing, and nobody found it strange that we stayed glued to each other’s side… but then night came.

All I knew was that Ian had bribed me to the kitchen when Mel and Jared had started snapping at each other about their room, and that echoes of their shouting match were heard even there. It ended up that Ian would stay in the hospital temporarily while me and Mel occupied his room; Jared would not let go of Mel during the day, and watched with tight eyes as she let go of him and led me away every day when the dark came.

Even I, who had trouble telling what Mel was feeling by her expressions alone, knew that she did _not_ like Jared close to me, and the reason was not jealousy.

I didn’t speak much to Jared, or at all. For now, I was glad. I wanted time with her. I wanted to not think of him.

I simply went where she led, grateful to have her to lead me.

I was glad when the monsoons came late to the desert.

I'd never smelled the rain on the creosotes before—I could only vaguely remember it from my memories from me and Mel, a dim trail of recall—and now the scent washed out the musty caves, left them smelling fresh and almost spicy. The scent clung to my hair and followed me everywhere. I smelled it in my dreams.

Also, Petals Open to the Moon had lived in Seattle all her life, and the unbroken streak of blue skies and blistering heat was as bewildering—almost numbing—to my system as the dark press of heavy overcast skies would have been to any of these desert dwellers. The clouds were exciting, a change from the bland, featureless pale blue. They had depth and movement. They made pictures in the sky.

There was a great deal of reshuffling to be done in Jeb's caves, what with me and Sunny and everything, and the move to the big game room—now the communal sleeping quarters—was good preparation for more stable arrangements to follow.

Every space was needed, so rooms could not remain vacant. Still, only the newcomers, Candy—who had remembered her correct name at last—and Lacey, could bear to take Wes's old space. I pitied Candy for her future roommate, but the Healer never betrayed any discontent at the prospect.

When the rains ended, Jamie would move into a free corner in Brandt and Aaron's cave. He had cited wanting to give Mel and Jared their privacy, even though Mel’s expression had tightened at it. She wanted to stay with Jared. She wanted to stay with me. She didn’t want me with Jared.

But we had until the rains ended. There was no need to suffer for it now.

Kyle was working on widening the small crevice that had been Walter's sleeping space so that it would be ready when the desert was dry again. It really wasn't big enough for more than one, and Kyle would not be staying there alone.

At night in the game room, Sunny slept curled into a ball against Kyle's chest, like a kitten who was friends with a big dog—a rottweiler whom she trusted implicitly. Sunny was always with Kyle. I couldn't remember ever seeing them unattached since I'd opened these eyes for the first time. I hadn’t yet stopped being afraid.

I did not appreciate it. I did not like seeing Sunny with him.

I didn’t know if Kyle liked having Sunny with him. He seemed constantly bemused, too dazed and distracted by this impossible relationship he had found himself in to really understand his own circumstances. I tried to picture what it would have been like if I had found my way to these caves without Mel, if Jared had turned quiet and meek and confused, if he had wanted me gone but kept me under his arm out of… grief? Confusion? Hope?

It was horrifying. I tried not to think of it. I mostly avoided them.

As for Doc, he would not be sleeping in the hospital anymore after the rain. The first night in the game room, Sharon had dragged her mattress right next to his without a word of explanation. Perhaps it was Doc's fascination with the Healer that motivated Sharon, though I doubted Doc had even noticed how pretty the older woman was; his fascination was with her phenomenal knowledge. Or maybe it was just that Sharon was ready to forgive and forget. I hoped that was the case. It would be nice to think that even Sharon and Maggie might be softened over time.

Ian couldn’t stay in the hospital forever, either.

The crucial conversation with him happened on our first day in the game room. I didn’t want to bring it up first, didn’t want to be so intrusive. And Ian needed time, I knew. Mel was right there, and very close to me. I had no idea how he was dealing with all this.

I had no idea how I was dealing with all this. Jared was… he was still a center point of a maelstrom of confusion and love and stress in me, even now. But all of us were like that, caught up in what we had been—Melanie wasn’t treating Ian any different than how _we_ had treated him and seemed gutted with how awkward he was around her, and even Jared, who had the least reason for uncertainty, would occasionally meet my confused gaze with a searching one of his own.

Ian focused on me, steadfast in his denial. Mel and I were tired enough for now to not want to open that can of worms yet.

It was raining for the first time in more than six months, now. There were both laughter and complaints as people shook out their damp bedding and arranged their places. I saw Sharon with Doc and smiled.

"Over here, Wanda," Jamie called, waving me toward where he'd just set his mattress next to Ian's. Mel, who was sitting beside him with an arm slung casually around his shoulders, instantly looked around when she heard him say my name. "There's room for all of us now."

Jamie was the one person who treated me almost exactly the same as before. He never seemed surprised to see me enter a room or shocked when Wanderer's words came through these lips. He hadn’t been one of the ones touched by the most troubling parts of WandererAndMel.

"We don’t really need an extra mattress for you, do we, Wanda? I bet we can all fit alright in here if we shove them together.” Jamie grinned at me while he kicked one mattress into the other without waiting for agreement. "You don't take up much space."

“ _Half an inch_ is still taller than you, Jamie,” I said, amused.

“Not for long,” Mel said. “Wait ‘till puberty hits him again.”

She smiled up at me and Ian, small and sharp that way she smiled, and I felt a part of myself loosen, looking at her. She and Jamie reached out for me at the same time, and Ian snorted as he let go, letting me sink into the space between the siblings. I settled there easily, fitting like a puzzle piece between them. Sometimes, I even felt like I belonged there.

“I’m going to get taller than even _you_ ,” Jamie told Mel, delighted.

“Not gonna get taller than me, though,” a smug voice came from behind them. Not a voice. I would still know that voice anywhere.

Jared stood behind the three of us, a mattress in his hands. His eyes moved from Mel to me, not unsticking from her until he was completely turned in my direction, like they didn’t want to stop looking at her until absolutely necessary. His mouth quirked in a small smile. I smiled back, but my eyes veered away.

“I got this for you,” he said, “since these two said they wouldn’t.”

“Who did you steal that from?” Mel asked dryly, not looking up at him. “Jamie lent _his_ mattress to Candy.”

“I figured that once I got to our room and saw his bed was missing,” Jared said with an eyeroll. “I got it from Kyle. He doesn’t need it, what with Sunny sleeping _on_ him.” He set the mattress down beside Mel’s and sat down on her other side. Ian, who had been standing until now, settled cross-legged in front of us, forming a circle.

Jamie rolled his eyes, looking very much like Jared then. “All this business is making it obvious we need to settle the room thing. I talked to Brandt and Aaron, I think I’m going to move in with them. I really don’t want to, uh, infringe on you guys’ privacy.” He turned to Ian and grimaced, as if Ian would deeply understand his feelings. Ian grimaced back at him.

“We don’t have to think about that now,” I said, patting Ian’s hand.

“Still… it looks like I’ll have a room all to myself,” Ian said. When he glanced up, though, he glanced at Mel before his eyes went to me. “That’s not right.” He smiled. “What is this place, filled with extra rooms?”

Mel and I snorted at the same time.

“Kyle’s keeping Walt’s room after all?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah, he’s trying to widen it a bit.”

“I guess Wanda will stay with you, then?” Jared asked. He had an arm behind Mel, not wrapped around her because he couldn’t do that without touching me too. She was leaning her weight against him, though, fitted to his side.

Ian looked at me. I bit my bottom lip and looked down.

“There’s no way we can stay together, the four of us, is there,” Mel and I said at the same time, she evenly and me quietly. “It’d turn into a bloodbath on day two, anyway,” Mel continued dryly, “with those two morons in close quarters.”

“You stay with Wanda all day,” Jared said in an even voice, clearly rehashing an argument and trying not to sound annoyed or to annoy Mel. “It’s okay to not be glued to her at night too, right?”

Mel gave him an unimpressed look.

“I don’t think there’s an easy answer to this,” I said, voice low, eyes on the ground instead of anyone in particular. “Mel…”

“Don’t _you_ turn against me,” she complained.

“Logistics,” I said with a smile, looking up at her.

“Fuck that,” she said. “We’ll sleep in the middle of the kitchen if we have to.”

I kept on looking. She glared resolutely back.

“Ian and Jared can share Jared’s room, and we’ll stay where we are,” she declared, crossing her arms.

“No,” the men said at the same time, horrified and disgusted.

“You lived with _Kyle_ ,” Mel pointed out, lifting one eyebrow at Ian. “Surely Jared isn’t worse than _that._ ”

“Mel…” Jared said with a groan.

“Mel,” I said, catching her hand in mind, “Ian would be with me.”

She deflated minutely at that, glancing at Ian. He smiled when he caught it, that strange way he did these days; eyes roaming her face like he was looking for someone else.

"I don't want to be alone," he admitted. “There’s no good reason for it, anyway, with everyone… And I would never let anything happen to Wanda.”

“Wait,” Jared said, frowning. “Are we afraid something is going to happen to Wanda?”

“Not really,” Ian said.

Mel pursed her lips. She probably would have tugged me closer if that were physically possible. My hip was starting to hurt a bit from how I was shifting my weight to be able to press up against her.

“Kyle,” she said.

“I think Sunny’s mellowed him out enough,” Jared said, shaking his head.

But we remembered the dark, and the heat of steam on our face. We remembered water in our lugs, limbs that wouldn’t move, sweat down our face. His rough hands on us. He had meant to boil us alive.

Me. He had meant to boil me.

“I’m not going to bet _her_ on that,” Mel said, mouth twisting.

“Ian would be with me,” I reminded her. I turned to him. “I know we can’t take your room forever. I just… if Mel stays with Jared and I stay with you, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” he asked, as if he found it odd. “I’m not the one… Look, I just don’t want to rush you. I know it’s confusing. That everything’s confusing, even now.”

“Yes.”

“So I didn’t want…”

“I think,” I said very quietly, “that things will not stop being confusing for a long, long time. For any of us.”

His expression softened. “I don’t want to rush you,” he repeated.

“I could live with you, if you could live with me. Mel can stay with Jared. And we could take it one day at a time,” I said.

Ian sighed, reaching forward to tug at a curl of mine. “I always knew you were the smart one out of you two.”

“Hey,” Mel protested.

Jamie, who had stayed silent until now, snorted. Mel and I turned to give him a _look._ He shrugged; he hadn’t wanted to be booted out of the conversation, as he often was, so he had stayed quiet.

“We have time,” I said.

It was alright, for now. We had time to breathe and be and live.

The rains would end, and when they did, thing would change. But things were always changing, and that was just fine.

It was a few weeks later that the time for me to test my new face on the other souls came, when we finally went on our next raid.

It was a relief to be out after long weeks of frustration. My new body was slow to grow stronger, sleeping in the game room with everyone quickly lost its novelty, and this body was much less accustomed to being stuffed inside damp caves for months without end.

One of the best things about this raid, however, was that Kyle would not come with us. Sunny had gone hysterical the one time he'd mentioned it. Mel, who had been there with me tucked under her arm when it happened, had smiled like a shark.

Supplies had been dwindling; this would be a long, thorough trip. Jared was leading the raid, as usual, and Melanie of course would be coming with me and him, and Ian too. Aaron and Brandt volunteered, not that we really needed the muscle; they were tired of being cooped up.

We were going far to the north, and I was excited to see the new places—to feel the cold again.

I was bouncy with excitement the night we drove to the rock slide where the van and the big moving truck were hidden. Ian was laughing at me because I could hardly hold still as we loaded the clothes and sundries we would need into the van. Mel, who was holding my hand, said that if she didn’t I’d float away into the sky like a helium balloon.

Was I too loud? Too oblivious to my surroundings? No, of course that was not it. There was nothing I could have done. This was a trap, and it was too late for us the minute we arrived.

We froze when the thin beams of light shot out of the darkness into Jared's and Ian's faces. My face, my eyes, the ones that might have helped us, stayed obscured, hidden in Melanie’s shadow.

My eyes were not blinded by the glare, and the moon was bright enough for me to clearly see the Seekers that outnumbered us, eight to our six. Bright enough for me to see the way they held their hands, to see the weapons that glinted in them, raised and pointed at us. Pointed at Jared and Ian, at Brandt and Aaron—our only gun still undrawn—and one centered dead on Mel's chest.

My fragile little heart shattered into a million pieces, and I fumbled for the pill in my pocket. My hand was clasped like a shackle around Mel’s, whose knuckles were white around mine.

"Steady, now, everybody just keep calm," the man in the center of the group of Seekers called out. "Wait, wait, don't be swallowing anything! Jeez, get a grip! No, look!"

The man turned the flashlight on his own face.

His face was sun browned and craggy, like a rock that had been eroded by the wind. His hair was dark, with white at the temples, and it curled in a bushy mess around his ears. And his eyes—his eyes were dark brown. Just dark brown, nothing more.

"See?" he said. "Okay, now, you don't shoot us, and we won't shoot you. See?" And he laid the gun he was carrying to the ground. "C'mon, guys," he said, and the others slid their guns back into holsters—on their hips, their ankles, their backs... so many weapons.

"We found your cache here—clever, that; we were lucky to find it—and decided we'd hang out and make your acquaintance. It's not every day you find another rebel cell." He laughed a delighted laugh that came from deep in his belly. "Look at your faces! What? Did you think you all were the only ones still kickin'?" He laughed again.

None of us had moved an inch.

"Think they're in shock, Nate," another man said.

"We scared them half to death," a woman said. "What do you expect?"

They waited, shuffling from foot to foot, while we stood frozen.

Jared was the first to recover. "Who are you?" he whispered.

The leader grinned. "I'm Nate—nice to meet you, though you might not feel the same way just yet. This here's Rob, Evan, Blake, Tom, Kim, and Rachel along with me." He gestured around the group as he spoke, and the humans nodded at their names. I noticed one man, a little to the back, whom Nate did not introduce. He had bright, crinkly red hair that stood out—especially because he was the tallest in the group. He alone seemed to be unarmed. He was also staring intently at me, so I looked away. "There's twenty-two of us altogether, though," Nate continued.

Nate held out his hand.

Jared took a deep breath and then a step forward. When he moved, the rest of our little group silently exhaled all at once.

"I'm Jared." He shook Nate's hand, then started to smile. "These are Aaron, Brandt, Ian, Melanie, and Wanda. There are thirty-seven of us altogether."

When Jared spoke my name, Melanie shifted her weight, trying to obscure me completely from the other humans' view. It was only then that I realized I was still in just as much danger as the others would have been in if these had been Seekers. Just like in the beginning. I tried to hold perfectly still. I held her so tightly that her hand would bruise.

If anyone tried to hurt me, I wasn’t sure what Mel would do, except that it would be trouble for everyone involved.

Nate blinked at Jared's revelation, and then his eyes widened. "Wow. That's the first time I've ever been one-upped on that one."

Now Jared blinked. "You've found others?"

"There are three other cells separate from ours that we know of. Eleven with Gail, seven with Russell, and eighteen with Max. We keep in touch. Even trade now and then." Again, the belly laugh. "Gail's little Ellen decided she wanted to keep company with my Evan here, and Carlos took up with Russell's Cyrus. And, of course, everyone needs Burns now and then—" He stopped talking abruptly, glancing uneasily around him, as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. His eyes rested briefly on the tall redhead in the back, who was still staring at me.

"Might as well get that out of the way," the small dark man at Nate's elbow said.

Nate shot a suspicious glance across our little line. "Okay. Rob's right. Let's get this out there." He took a deep breath. "Now, you all just take it easy and hear us out. Calmly, please. This upsets people sometimes."

"Every time," the one named Rob muttered. His hand drifted to the holster on his thigh.

"What?" Jared asked in a flat voice.

Nate sighed and then gestured to the tall man with the red hair. The man stepped forward, a wry smile on his face. He had freckles, like me, somehow even more densely packed. They were scattered so thick across his face that he looked dark skinned, though he was fair. His eyes were dark.

"This here is Burns. Now, he's with us, so don't go crazy. He's my best friend, saved my life a hundred times. He's one of our family, and we don't take kindly to it when people try to kill him."

One of the women slowly pulled her gun out and held it pointed at the ground.

The redhead spoke for the first time in a distinctly gentle tenor voice. "No, it's okay, Nate. See? They've got one of their own." He pointed straight at me, and Mel and Ian tensed. "Looks like I'm not the only one who's gone native."

Burns grinned at me, then crossed the empty space, the no-man's-land between the two tribes, with his hand stretched out toward me.

I relaxed. I stepped out from around Mel, ignoring her muttered warning, abruptly comfortable and sure. She still went with me as I walked, our hands linked.

I liked the way Burns had phrased it. Gone native.

Burns stopped in front of me, lowering his hand a bit to compensate for the difference in our heights. I took his hand—it was hard and callused—and shook it.

"Burns Living Flowers," he introduced himself.

My eyes widened at his name, and Mel’s did too. Fire World—how unexpected.

"Wanderer," I told him.

"It's... extraordinary to meet you, Wanderer. And here I thought I was one of a kind."

"Not even close," I said, thinking of Sunny back in the caves. Perhaps we were none of us as rare as we thought.

He raised an eyebrow at my answer, intrigued.

"Is that so?" he said. "Well, maybe there's some hope for this planet, after all."

"It's a strange world," I murmured, more to myself than to the other native soul.

"The strangest," he agreed.


End file.
